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UNIVERSITY    OF     ILLINOIS     LIBRARY    AT    URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 


JUL  2  0  ])8S 


L161— O-1096 


MOTHS 


A    NOVEL 


BY 


OUIDA 


'  Like  unto  moths  fretting  a  garment '  (Psalm) 


IN     THREE      VOLUMES— VOL.    L 


CHATTO    &    WINDUS,    PICCADILLY 

1880 


{The  right  0/  translation  is  reserved \ 


LONDON  :     PRINTED     BV 

SPOTTISWOODE     AND     CO.,     NEW-STREET     SQUARE 

AND     PARLIAMENT     STREET 


/)5  7y>*^ 


'  InstribcD 

TO 

MY     OLD     FRIEND 

ALGERNON     BORTHWICK 

IX    MEMORY   OF    THE    DAYS   OF 
'PUCK' 
i^>  AND    AS    A    SLIGHT    TOKEN    OF   AN 

UNCHANGED     REGARD 
^  AND    ESTEEM 


Le  monde  aime  le  vice  et  halt  Tamour ;  le  vice  est  ua 
bon  enfant,  un  viveur,  un  drole,  un  gourmet ;  il  tient 
bonne  table,  et  vous  invite  souvent ;  Tamour,  au  contraire, 
est  un  pedant,  un  solitaire,  un  misanthrope,  un  va-nu- 
pieds ;  il  ne  vous  amuse  pas ;  vous  criez  vite,  '  a  la 
lanterne  !  '— Rivarez. 


MOTHS 


CHAPTER  I. 


Lady  Dolly  ought  to  have  been  perfectly 
happy.  She  had  everything  that  can  constitute 
the  joys  of  a  woman  of  her  epoch. 

She  was  at  Troaville.  She  had  won  heaps 
of  money  at  play.  She  had  made  a  correct 
book  on  the  races.  She  had  seen  her  chief 
rival  looking  bilious  in  an  unbecoming  gown. 
She  had  had  a  letter  from  her  husband  to  say 
he  was  going  away  to  Java  or  Jupiter  or 
somewhere  indefinitely.  She  wore  a  costume 
which  had  cost  a  great  tailor  twenty  hours  of 

VOL.    I.  B 


MOTHS. 


anxious   and   continuous    reflection.     Nothing 
but  ha^tiste  indeed  !  but  hajptiste  sublimised  and 
apotheosised  by  niello  buttons,  old  lace,  and 
genius.      She    bad    her    adorers    and    slaves 
grouped  about  her.     She  bad  found  her  dearest 
friend  out  in  cbeating  at  cards.     She  bad  dined 
the  night  before  at  the  Maison  Persanne  and 
would  dine  this  nigbt  at  the  Maison  Normande. 
She  had  been  told  a  state  secret  by  a  minister 
wbicb  she  knew  it  was  shameful  of  him  to  have 
been  coaxed  and  cbaffed  into  revealing.     She 
bad  had  a  new  comedy  read  to  her  in  manu- 
script-form three  montbs  before  it  would  be 
given   in   Paris,  and  bad  screamed  at  all  its 
indecencies  in  the  choice  company  of  a  Serene 
Princess  and  two  ambassadresses  as  they  all 
took  tbeir  chocolate  in  their  dressing-gowns. 
Above  all,  she  was   at  Trouville,  having  left 
half  a    million   of  debts   behind  her   strewn 
about  in  all  directions,  and  standing  free  as  air 
in  gossamer  garments  on  the  planks   in  the 
summer  sunshine.     There  was  a  charming  blue 
sea    beside   her;    a    balmy  fluttering  breeze 
around  her,  a  crowd  of  the  most  fashionable 


MOTHS. 


sunshades  of  Europe  before  lier,  like  a  bed  of 
full-blown  anemones.  She  had  floated  and 
bobbed  and  swum  and  splashed  semi-nude, 
with  all  the  other  mermaids  a  la  mode,  and  had 
shown  that  she  must  still  be  a  pretty  woman, 
pretty  even  in  daylight,  or  the  men  would  not 
have  looked  at  her  so :  and  yet  with  all  this 
she  was  not  enjoying  herself. 

It  was  very  hard. 

The  yachts  came  and  went,  the  sands  glit- 
tered, the  music  sounded,  men  and  women  in 
bright-coloured  stripes  took  headers  into  the 
tide  or  pulled  themselves  about  in  little  canoes  ; 
the  snowy  canvas  of  the  tent  shone  like  a  huge 
white  mushroom,  and  the  faces  of  all  the  houses 
were  lively  with  green  shutters  and  awnings 
brightly  striped  like  the  bathers;  people,  the 
gayest  and  best-born  people  in  Europe,  laughed 
and  chattered,  and  made  love,  and  Lady  Dolly 
with  them,  pacing  the  deal  planks  with  her 
pretty  high- heeled  shoes ;  but  for  all  that  she 
was  wretched. 

She  was  thinking  to  herself,  '  What  on  earth 
shall  I  do  with  her  ?  ' 

82 


MOTHS. 


It  ruined  her  morning.  It  clouded  the 
sunshine.  It  spoiled  her  cigarette.  It  made 
the  waltzes  sound  like  dirges.  It  made  her 
chief  rival  look  almost  good-looking  to  her.  It 
made  a  gown  combined  of  parrots'  breasts  and 
passion-flowers  that  she  was  going  to  wear  in 
the  afternoon  feel  green,  and  yellow,  and  bilious 
in  her  anticipation  of  it,  though  it  was  quite 
new  and  a  wonder.  It  made  her  remember  her 
debts.  It  made  her  feel  that  she  had  not 
digested  those  ecrevisses  at  supper.  It  made 
her  fancy  that  her  husband  might  not  really  go 
to  Java  or  Jupiter.  It  was  so  sudden,  so  appal- 
ling, so  bewildering,  so  endless  a  question; 
and  Lady  Dolly  only  asked  questions,  she  never 
answered  them  or  waited  for  their  answers. 

After  all,  what  could  she  do  with  her? 
She,  a  pretty  woman  and  a  wonderful  flirt, 
who  liked  to  dance  to  the  very  end  of  the 
cotillon,  and  had  as  many  lovers  as  she  had 
pairs  of  shoes.  What  could  she  do  with  a 
daughter  just  sixteen  years  old? 

'  It  makes  one  look  so  old ! '  she  had  said  to 
herself  wretchedly,   as   she  had  bobbed   and 


MOTHS. 


danced  in  the  waves.  Lady  Dolly  was  not 
old ;  she  was  not  quite  thirty- four,  and  she  was 
as  pretty  as  if  she  were  seventeen,  perhaps 
prettier ;  even  when  she  was  not  '  done  up,' 
and  she  did  not  need  to  do  herself  up  very 
much  just  yet,  really  not  much,  considering, 
— well,  considering  so  many  things,  that  she 
never  went  to  bed  till  daylight,  that  she  never 
ate  anything  digestible,  and  never  drank  any- 
thing wholesome,  that  she  made  her  waist 
fifteen  inches  round,  and  destroyed  her  nerves 
with  gambling,  chloral,  and  many  other  things ; 
considering  these,  and  so  many  other  reasons, 
besides  the  one  supreme  reason  that  everybody 
does  it,  and  that  you  always  look  a  fright  if  you 
don't  do  it. 

The  thought  of  her  daughter's  impending 
arrival  made  Lady  Dolly  miserable.  Telegrams 
were  such  horrible  things.  Before  she  had 
had  time  to  realise  the  force  of  the  impending 
catastrophe  the  electric  wires  had  brought  her 
tidings  that  the  girl  was  actually  on  her  way 
across  the  sea,  not  to  be  stayed  by  any  kind  of 
means,  and  would  be  there  by  nightfall.    Night- 


MOTHS. 


fall  at  Trouville!  When  Lady  Dolly  in  tlie 
deftest  of  summer-evening  toilettes  would  be 
just  opening  Iter  pretty  mouth  for  her  first 
morsel  of  salmon  and  drop  of  Chablis,  with  the 
windows  open  and  the  moon  rising  on  the  sea, 
and  the  card-tables  ready  set,  and  the  band 
playing  within  earshot,  and  the  courtiers  all 
around  and  at  her  orders,  whether  she  liked  to 
go  out  and  dance,  or  stay  at  home  for  poker 
or  chemin-de-fer, 

'What  in  the  world  shall  I  do  with  her, 
Jack  ?  '  she  sighed  to  her  chief  counsellor. 

The  chief  counsellor  opened  his  lips,  an- 
swered, '  Marry  her !  '  then  closed  them  on  a 
big  cigar. 

'  Of  course  !  One  always  marries  girls ;  how 
stupid  you  are,'  said  Lady  Dolly  peevishly. 

The  counsellor  smiled  grimly,  'And  then 
you  will  be  a  grandmother,'  he  said  with  a  cruel 
relish :  he  had  just  paid  a  bill  at  a  hric-a-hrac 
shop  for  her  and  it  had  left  him  unamiable. 

'  I  suppose  you  think  that  witty,'  said  Lady 
Dolly  with  delicate  contempt.  '  Well,  Helene 
there  is  a  great-grandmother,  and  look  at  her!' 


MOTHS. 


Helene  was  a  Prussian  princess,  married  to 
a  Russian  minister :  she  was  arrayed  in  white 
with  a  tender  blending  about  it  of  all  the  blues 
in  creation,  from  that  of  a  summer  sky  to  that 
of  a  lains  lazuli  ring;  she  had  a  quantity  of  fair 
curls,  a  broad  hat  wreathed  Avith  white  lilac  and 
convolvulus,  a  complexion  of  cream,  teeth  of 
pearl,  a  luminous  and  innocent  smile  ;  she  was 
talking  at  the  top  of  her  voice  and  munching 
chocolate ;  she  had  a  circle  of  young  men  round 
her ;  she  looked,  perhaps,  if  you  wished  to  be 
ill-natured,  eight-and-twenty.  Yet  a  great- 
grandmother  she  was,  and  the  ^Almanach  de 
Gotha '  said  so,  and  alas !  said  her  age. 

'  You  won't  wear  so  well  as  Helene.  You 
don't  take  care  of  yourself,'  the  counsellor 
retorted,  with  a  iKiff  of  smoke  between  each 
sentence. 

'  What  ! '  screamed  Lady  Dolly,  so  that  her 
voice  rose  above  the  din  of  all  the  other  voices, 
the  sound  of  the  waves,  the  click-clack  of  the 
high  heels,  and  the  noise  of  the  band.  ISTot 
take  care  of  herself! — she! — who  had  every 
fashionable  medicine  that  came  out^  and,  except 


'MOTHS. 


at  Trouville,  never  would  be  awakened  for  any 
earthly  thing  till  one  o'clock  in  the  day. 

'  You  don't  take  care  of  yourself/  said  the 
counsellor.  'No ;  you  eat  heaps  of  sweetmeats. 
You  take  too  much  tea,  too  much  ice,  too  much 
soup,  too  much  wine;  too  much  everything. 
You ' 

*  Oh !  if  you  mean  to  insult  me  and  call  me 
a  drunkard— —  ! '  said  Lady  Dolly,  very  hotly 
flushing  up  a  little. 

'  You  smoke  quite  awfully  too  much,'  pur- 
sued her  companion  immovably.  '  It  hurts  us, 
and  can't  be  good  for  you.  Indeed,  all  you 
women  would  be  dead  if  you  smoked  right ;  you 
don't  smoke  right;  you  send  all  your  smoke  out, 
chattering;  it  never  gets  into  your  mouth  even, 
and  so  that  saves  you  all ;  if  you  drew  it  in,  as 
we  do,  you  would  be  dead,  all  of  you.  Who 
was  the  first  woman  that  smoked  I  often 
wonder  ? ' 

'  The  idea  of  my  not  wearing  as  well  as 
Hel^ne,'  pursued  Lady  Dolly,  unable  to  forget 
the  insult.  '  Well,  there  are  five-and- twenty 
years  between  us,  thank  goodness,  and  more ! ' 


MOTHS. 


'I  saj  you  won't,'  said  tlie  counsellor,  'not 
if  you  go  on  as  you  do,  screaming  all  night 
over  those  cards  and  taking  quarts  of  chloral 
because  you  can't  sleep.  Why  can't  you  sleep? 
I  can.' 

'  All  the  lower  animals  sleep  like  toj)s/  said 
Lady  Dolly.  '  You  seem  to  have  been  reading 
medical  treatises,  and  they  haven't  agreed  with 
you.     Go  and  buy  me  a  "  Petit  Journal."  ' 

The  counsellor  went  grumbling  and  obedient 
— a  tall,  good-looking,  well-built,  and  very  fair 
Englishman,  who  had  shot  everything  that  was 
shootable  all  over  the  known  world.  Lady 
Dolly  smiled  serenely  on  the  person  who  glided 
to  her  elbow,  and  took  the  vacant  place;  a 
slender,  pale,  and  graceful  Frenchman,  the  Due 
de  Dinant  of  the  vieille  souche. 

'  Dear  old  Jack  gets  rather  a  proser,'  she 
thought,  and  she  began  to  plan  a  fishing  picnic 
with  her  little  Duke ;  a  picnic  at  which  every- 
body was  to  go  barefooted,  and  dress  like 
peasants — real  common  peasants,  you  know,  of 
course, — and  dredge,  didn't  they  call  it,  and 
poke  about,  and  hunt  for  oysters.     Lady  Dolly 


10  MOTHS. 


laad  lovely  feet,  and  could  afford  to  uncover 
tliem ;  very  few  of  her  rivals  could  do  so,  a  fact 
of  which,  she  took  cruel  advantage,  and  from 
which  she  derived  exquisite  satisfaction  in  clear 
shallows  and  rock  pools.  '  The  donkeys !  they've 
cramped  themselves  in  tight  boots ! '  she  said 
to  herself,  with  the  scorn  of  a  superior  mind. 
She  always  gave  her  miniature  feet  and  arched 
insteps  their  natural  play,  and  therein  displayed 
a  wisdom  of  which  it  must  be  honestly  confessed, 
the  rest  of  her  career  gave  no  glimpse. 

The  counsellor  bought  the  '  Petit  Journal ' 
and  a  '  Figaro '  for  himself,  and  came  back ; 
but  she  did  not  notice  him  at  all.  A  few  years 
before  the  neglect  would  have  made  him  miser- 
able; now  it  made  him  comfortable — such  is 
the  ingratitude  of  man.  He  sat  down  and 
read  the  '  Figaro '  with  complacency,  while  she, 
under  her  sunshade  beamed  on  Gaston  de 
Dinant,  and  on  four  or  five  others  of  his  kind ; 
youngsters  without  youth,  but,  as  a  compensa- 
tion for  the  loss,  with  a  perfect  knowledge  of 
Judic's  last  song,  and  Dumas'  last  piece,  of  the 
last  new  card-room  scandal,  and  the  last  draw- 


MOTHS.  11 


ing-room  adultery;  of  everything  that  was 
coming  out  at  the  theatres,  and  of  all  that  was 
of  promise  in  the  stables.  They  were  not  in 
the  lea,st  amusing  in  themselves,  but  the  chatter 
of  the  world  has  almost  always  an  element  of 
the  amusing  in  it,  because  it  ruins  so  many 
characters,  ancf  gossips  and  chuckles  so  merrily 
and  so  lightly  over  infamy,  incest,  or  anything 
else  that  it  thinks  only  fun,  and  deals  with 
such  impudent  xDcrsonalities.  At  any  rate  they 
amused  Lady  Dolly,  and  her  Due  de  Dinant 
did  more ;  they  arranged  the  picnic, — without 
shoes,  that  was  indispensable,  without  shoes, 
and  in  real  peasant's  things,  else  there  would 
be  no  joke — they  settled  their  picnic,  divorced 
half-a-dozen  of  their  friends,  conjectured  about 
another  half-dozen  all  those  enormities  which 
modern  society  would  blush  at  in  the  Bible  but, 
out  of  it,  whispers  and  chuckles  over  very 
happily;  speculated  about  the  few  unhappy 
unknowns  who  had  dared  to  enter  the  magic 
precincts  of  these  very  dusty  sands ;  wondered 
with  whom  the  Prince  of  Wales  would  dme 
that  night,  and  whose  that  new  yawl  was,  that 


12  MOTHS. 


had  been  standing  off  since  morning  flying  the 
R.  Y.  S.  flag ;  and  generally  diverted  one 
another  so  well,  that  beyond  an  occasional 
passing  spasm  of  remembrance,  Lady  Dolly 
had  forgotten  her  impending  trial. 

*  I  think  I  will  go  in  to  breakfast/  she  said  at 
last,  and  got  up.  It  was  one  o'clock,  and  the 
sun  was  getting  hot ;  the  anemone-bed  began 
to  heave  and  be  dispersed ;  up  and  down  the 
planks  the  throng  was  thick  still,  the  last 
bathers,  peignoir-enwrapped,  were  sauntering 
up  from  the  edge  of  the  sea.  The  counsellor 
folded  his  '  Figaro,'  and  shut  up  his  cigar-case ; 
his  was  the  useful  but  humble  task  to  go  home 
before  her  and  see  that  the  Moselle  was  iced, 
the  prawns  just  netted,  the  strawberries  just 
culled,  and  the  cutlets  duly  frothing  in  their 
silver  dish.  The  Due  de  Dinant  sauntered  by 
her  with  no  weightier  duty  than  to  gaze  gently 
down  into  her  eyes,  and  buy  a  stephanotis  or  a 
knot  of  roses  for  her  bosom  when  they  passed 
the  flower-baskets. 

'  What  are  they  all  looking  at  ? '  said  Lady 
Dolly  to  her  escort  suddenly.   Bodies  of  the  pic- 


MOTHS.  13 


turesque  parti- coloured  crowd  were  all  streaming 
the  same  way,  inland  towards  the  sunny  white 
houses,  whose  closed  green  shutters  were  all  so 
attractively  suggestive  of  the  shade  and  rest 
to  be  found  within.  But  the  heads  of  the 
crowd  were  turning  back  seaward,  and  their 
eyes  and  eye-glasses  all  gazed  in  the  same 
direction. 

Was  it  at  the  Prince  ?  Was  it  at  the  Pre- 
sident ?  Was  it  the  Channel  fleet  had  hove  in 
sight?  or  some  swimmer  drowning,  or  some 
porpoises,  or  what  ?  No,  it  was  a  new  arrival. 
A  new  arrival  was  no  excitement  at  Trouville 
if  it  were  somebody  that  everybody  knew.  Em- 
perors were  common-place;  ministers  were  non- 
entities; marshals  were  monotonous;  princes 
were  more  numerous  than  the  porpoises ;  and 
great  dramatists,  great  singers,  great  actors, 
great  orators,  were  all  there  as  the  veiy  sand-s 
of  the  sea.  But  an  arrival  of  somebody  that 
nobody  knew  had  a  certain  interest,  if  only  as 
food  for  laughter.  It  seemed  so  queer  that 
there  should  be  such  people,  or  that  existing, 
they  should  venture  there. 


14  MOTHS. 


'  Who  is  it  ?  '  said  Trouville,  in  one  breath, 
and  the  women  laughed,  and  the  men  stared, 
and  both  sexes  turned  round  by  common  con- 
sent. Something  lovelier  than  anything  there 
was  coming  through  them  as  a  sunbeam  comes 
through  dust.  Yet  it  wore  nothing  but  brown 
holland  !  Brown  hoUand  at  Trouville  maj-  be 
worn  indeed,  but  it  is  brown  holland  trans- 
figured, sublimated,  canonised,  borne,  like  Lady 
Dolly's  haptiste,  into  an  apotheosis  of  ecru 
lace  and  floss  silk  embroideries,  and  old  point 
cravats,  and  buttons  of  repousse  work,  or 
ancient  smalto;  brown  holland  raised  to  the 
empyrean,  and  no  more  discoverable  to  the 
ordinary  naked  eye  than  the  original  flesh, 
fish,  or  fowl  lying  at  the  root  of  a  good 
cook's  mayonnaise  is  discernible  to  the  un- 
educated palate. 

But  this  was  brown  holland  naked  and  not 
ashamed,  unadorned  and  barbaric,  without  any 
attempt  at  disguise  of  itself,  and  looking  wet 
and  wrinkled  from  sea-water,  and  very  brown 
indeed  beside  the  fresh  and  ethereal  costumes 
of  the  ladies  gathered  there,  that  looked  like 


MOTHS.  15 


bubbles  just  blown  in  a  thousand  hues  to  float 
upon  the  breeze. 

'  Brown  holland  !  good  gracious  ! '  said  Lady 
Dollj,  putting  up  her  eyeglass.  She  could  not 
very  well  see  the  wearer  of  it ;  there  were  so 
many  men  between  them  ;  but  she  could  see 
the  wet,  clinging,  tumbled  skirt  which  came 
in  amongst  the  wonderful  garments  of  the 
sacred  place,  and  to  make  this  worse  there 
was  an  old  Scotch  plaid  above  the  skirt,  not 
worn,  thrown  on  anyhow,  as  she  said  patheti- 
cally, long  afterwards. 

*  What  a  guy  ! '  said  Lady  Dolly. 
'  What   a   face ! '    said  the   courtiers ;    but 
they  said  it  under  their  breath,  being  wise  in 
their  generation,  and  praising  no  woman  before 
another. 

But  the  brown  holland  came  towards  her, 
catching  in  the  wind,  and  showing  feet  as 
perfect  as  her  own.  The  brown  holland 
stretched  two  hands  out  to  her,  and  a  voice 
cried  aloud, 

'  Mother  !  don't  you  know  me,  mother  ?  ' 
Lady  Dolly  gave  a  little  sharp  scream,  then 


16  MOTHS. 


stood  still.  Her  pretty  face  was  very  blank, 
her  rosy  small  mouth  was  parted  in  amaze  and 
disgust. 

'  In  that  dress  ! '  she  gasped,  when  the 
position  became  clear  to  her  and  her  senses 
returned. 

But  the  brown  holland  was  clinging  in  a 
wild  and  joyous  kind  of  horrible,  barbarous 
way  all  about  her,  as  it  seemed,  and  the  old 
Scotch  plaid  was  pressing  itself  against  her 
haptiste  skirts. 

'  Oh,  mother !  how  lovely  you  are  !  Not 
changed  in  the  very  least !  Don't  you  know  me. 
Oh  dear !  don't  you  know  me  ?     I  am  Yere.' 

Lady  Dolly  was  a  sweet-tempered  woman 
by  nature,  and  only  made  fretful  occasionally 
by  maids'  contretemps,  debts,  husbands,  and 
other  disagreeable  accompaniments  of  life.  But, 
at  this  moment,  she  had  no  other  sense  than 
that  of  rage.  She  could  have  struck  her  sun- 
shade furiously  at  all  creation  ;  she  could  have 
fainted,  only  the  situation  would  have  been 
rendered  more  ridiculous  still  if  she  had,  and 
that  consciousness   sustained   her;  the  sands. 


Moths.  17 


and  the  planks,  and  the  sea,  and  the  sun,  all 
went  round  her  in  a  whirl  of  wrath.  She  could 
hear  all  her  lovers,  and  friends,  and  rivals,  and 
enemies  tittering ;  and  Princess  Helene  Olgar- 
ouski,  who  was  at  her  shoulder,  said  in  the 
pleasantest  way — 

'  Is  that  your  little  daughter,  dear  ?  Why 
she  is  quite  a  woman  !  A  new  beauty  for 
Monseigneur.' 

Lady  Dolly  could  have  slain  her  hundreds 
in  that  moment,  had  her  sunshade  but  been  of 
steel.  To  be  made  ridiculous !  There  is  no 
more  disastrous  destiny  under  the  sun. 

The  brown  holland  had  ceased  to  cling 
about  her,  finding  itself  repulsed;  the  Scotch 
plaid  had  fallen  down  on  the  plank;  there 
were  two  brilliant  and  wistful  eyes  regarding 
her  from  above,  and  one  hand  still  stretched 
out  shyly. 

'  I  am  Vere  !  *  said  a  voice  in  which  tears 
trembled  and  held  a  struggle  with  pride. 

*  I  see  you  are  ! '  said  Lady  Dolly  with  as- 
perity. '  What  on  earth  made  you  come  in  this — 
this — indecent  way  for — without  even  dressing ! 
VOL.  I.  0 


I  a  MOTHS. 


I  expected  you   at   night.     Is   that   Fraulem 
Schroder  ?     She  should  be  ashamed  of  herself.' 

'  I  see  no  shame,  Miladi,'  retorted  m  guttural 
tones  an  injured  German,  '  in  that  a  long- 
absent  and  much-loving  daughter  should  be 
breathless  to  flee  to  embrace  the  one  to  whom 
she  owes  her  being ' 

'  Hold  your  tongue ! '  said  Lady  Dolly 
angrily.  Fraulein  Schroder  wore  a  green  veil 
and  blue  spectacles,  and  was  not  beautiful  to 
the  eye,  and  was  grizzle-headed;  and  the 
friends  and  lovers,  and  courtiers,  and  enemies, 
were  laughing  uncontrollably. 

'  What  an  angel  of  loveliness !  But  a 
woman ;  quite  a  woman.  She  must  be  twenty 
at  least,  my  dear  ? '  said  Princess  Helene,  who 
always  said  the  pleasantest  thing  she  could 
think  of  at  any  time. 

'  Yere  is  sixteen,'  said  Lady  Dolly  sharply, 
much  ruffled,  seeing  angrily  that  the  girl's  head 
in  its  sunburnt  sailor's  hat,  bound  with  a  black 
ribbon,  was  nearly  a  foot  higher  than  her  own, 
hung  down,  though  it  now  was,  like  a  rose  in 
the  rain. 


MOTHS.  19 


There  was  a  person  coming  up  from  his 
mile  swim  in  the  sea,  with  the  burnons-like 
folds  cast  about  him  more  gracefully  than  other 
men  were  able  ever  to  cast  theirs. 

'  How  do  you  manage  to  get  so  much 
grace  out  of  a  dozen  yards  of  bath  towelling, 
Correze  ?  '  asked  an  Englishman  who  was  with 
him. 

'  C^est  mon  metier  a  moi  cVetre  ^^oseur,'  said 
the  other,  paraphrasing  the  famous  saying  of 
Joseph  the  Second. 

'  Ah,  no,'  said  the  Englishman,  '  you  never 
do  2)oser ;  that  is  the  secret  of  the  charm  of 
the  thing.  I  feel  like  a  fool  in  these  spacliUes 
and  swathings ;  but  you — you  look  as  if  you 
had  just  come  up  from  a  sacred  river  of  the 
East,  and  are  worthy  to  sing  strophes  to  a 
JSTourmahal.' 

'  Encore  unefois — mon  metier,'  said  the  other, 
casting  some  of  the  linen  folds  over  his  head, 
which  was  exceedingly  handsome,  and  almost 
line  for  line  like  the  young  Sebastian  of  Del 
Sarto.  At  that  moment  he  saw  the  little  scene 
going  on  between  Lady  Dolly  and  her  daughter, 


20  Moths. 


♦ 


and  watched  it  from  a  distance  with  much 
amusement. 

'  What  an  exquisite  face  that  child  has, — 
that  lovely  tint  like  the  wild  white  rose,  there 
is  nothing  like  it.  It  makes  all  the  women 
with  colour  look  vulgar,'  he  said,  after  a  pro- 
longed gaze  through  a  friend's  field- glass. 
*Who  is  she  do  you  say?  Miladi  Dolly's 
daughter  ?  Is  it  possible  ?  I  thought  Miladi 
was  made  herself  yesterday  in  Giroux's  shop, 
and  was  kept  in  a  wadded  box  when  her 
mechanism  was  not  wound  up.  Surely,  it  is 
impossible  Dolly  can  ever  have  stooped  to  such 
homely  unartificial  thing  as  maternity.  You 
must  be  mistaken.' 

'  No.  In  remote  ages  she  married  a  cousin. 
The  white  wild  rose  is  the  result.' 

'  A  charming  result.  A  child  only,  but  an 
exquisite  child.  It  is  a  pity  we  are  in  this 
costume,  or  we  would  go  and  be  presented ; 
though  Miladi  would  not  be  grateful,  to  judge 
by  her  face  now.  Poor  little  Dolly !  It  is  hard 
to  have  a  daughter^ — and  a  daughter  that  comes 
to  Trouville  in  August** 


MOTHS.  21 


Then  lie  who  was  a  figure  of  grace  even  in 
white  towelling,  and  had  a  face  like  Saint 
Sebastian,  handed  the  field-glass  back  to  his 
friend,  and  went  to  his  hotel  to  dress. 

Meanwhile  Lady  Dolly  was  saying  irrit- 
ably :  '  Go  home  to  my  house,  Vere, — the 
Chalet  Ludoff.  Of  course  you  ought  to 
have  gone  there  first ;  why  didn't  jow  go 
there  first  and  dress  ?  None  but  an  idiot 
would  ever  have  allowed  you  to  do  it.  The 
idea !  Walk  on,  pray— and  as  quickly  as  you 
can.' 

'  We  went  to  the  house,  but  they  said  you 
were  on  the  beach,  and  so,  mother ' 

'^Pray  don't  call  me  mother  in  that  way. 
It  makes  one  feel  like  What's-her-name  in  the 
"  Trovatore," '  said  Lady  Dolly,  with  a  little 
laugh,  that  was  very  fretful.  '  And  be  kind 
enough  not  to  stand  here  and  stare ;  everybody 
is  listening.' 

'What  for  should  they  not  listen?'  said 
Fraulein  Schroder  stoutly.  'Can  there  be  in 
nature  a  sweeter,  more  soul-inspiring,  and  of- 
heaven-al ways-blessed-emotion  than  the  out- 


22  MOTHS. 


coming  of  filial  love  and  the  spontaneous  flow 
of ' 

'Enbbisli! '  said  Lady  Dolly.  'Vere,  oblige 
me  by  walking  in  ;  I  shall  be  with  you  in  a 
moment  at  the  house.  You'll  find  Jack  there. 
You  remember  Jack  ? ' 

^  What  an  angel !  anyone  would  give  her 
twenty  years  at  least,'  said  Princess  Helene 
again.  '  But  your  German^  in  her  blue  glasses, 
she  is  a  drSlesse ' 

'  A  very  clever  woman ;  dreadfully  blue  and 
conscientious,  and  all  that  is  intolerable;  the 
old  duchess  found  her  for  me,'  replied  Lady 
Dolly,  still  half  willing  to  faint,  and  half 
inclined  to  cry,  and  wholly  in  that  state  of 
irritation  which  Fuseli  was  wont  to  say  made 
swearing  delicious. 

'  I  always  fancied — so  stupid  of  me  ! — that 
your  Yere  was  quite  a  little  child,  always  at  the 
Sacre  Coeur,'  continued  the  Princess  musingly, 
with  her  sweetest  «mile. 

'  I  wish  to  heaven  we  had  a  Sacre  Coeur,' 
said  Lady  Dolly  devoutly.  'We  wretched 
English  people  have  nothing  half  so  sensible ; 


MOTHS,  23 


you  know  that,  Helene,  as  well  as  I  do.  Vere 
is  tall  and  very  like  lier  poor  father  and  the  old 
Duke.' 

'  But  Vere — surely  that  is  not  the  name  of  a 
girl?' 

'  It  was  her  father's.  That  was  the  old 
Duchess's  doing  too.  Of  course  one  will  call 
her  Vera.   Well,  au  revoir  ma  tres  chere,  a  ce  soirJ' 

^  With  nods  and  becks  and  wreathed  smiles,' 
and  many  good-days  and  pretty  words,  poor 
Lady  Dolly  got  away  from  her  friends  and 
acquaintances,  and  had  the  common  luxury  of 
hearing  them  all  begin  laughing  again  as  soon 
as  they  imagined  she  had  got  out  of  earshot. 
Her  young  courtiers  accompanied  her,  of  course, 
but  she  dismissed  them  on  the  doorstep. 

'  I  can't  think  of  anything  but  my  child 
to-day  ! '  she  said  very  charmingly.  '  So  glad 
you    think    her  nice-looking.      When   she   is 

dressed,  you  know '  and  she  disappeared  into 

her  own  house  with  the  phrase  unfinished, 
leaving  all  it  suggested  to  her  hearers. 

*  Where's  Yere?'  she  said  sharply  to  her 
counsellor,  entering  the  breakfast-room,  before 


24  MOTHS. 


the  empty  stove  of  which,  from  the  sheer  fire- 
place club-room  habit  of  his  race,  that  person 
stood  smoking. 

'  Gone  to  her  room,'  he  answered.  '  You've 
made  her  cry.     You  were  nasty,  weren't  you  ? ' 

'  I  was  furious !  Who  wouldn't  have  been  ? 
l.^hat  vile  dress !  that  abominable  old  woman ! 
And  kissing  me  too — me — on  the  beach  ! ' 

Her  companion  smiled  grimly. 

^  She  couldn't  tell  that  one  mustn't  touch 
you  when  you're  "done  up."  You  didn't  do 
up  so  much  three  years  ago.  She'll  soon  learn, 
never  fear.' 

'  You  grow  quite  horribly  rude,  Jack.' 

He  smoked  serenely, 

'  And  quite  too  odiously  coarse.' 

He  continued  to  smoke. 

She  often  abused  him,  but  she  never  could 
do  without  him ;  and  he  was  aware  of  that. 

^  And  what  a  height  she  is  !  and  what  her 
gowns  will  cost !  and  she  must  come  out  soon — ■ 
and  that  horrid  Helene ! '  sobbed  Lady  Dolly, 
fairly  bursting  into  tears.  She  had  been  so 
gay  and  comfortable  at  Trouville^  and  now  it 


MOTHS.  25 


was  all  over.  What  comfort  could  there  be  with 
a  girl  nearly  six  feet  high,  that  looked  twenty 
years  old  when  she  was  sixteen,  and  who  called 
her  '  Mother  ! ' 

'  Don't  make  a  fuss,'  said  the  counsellor 
from  the  stove.  *  She's  very  handsome,  awfully 
pretty,  you'll  marry  her  in  no  time,  and  be  just 
as  larky  as  you  were  before.  Don't  cry,  there's 
a  dear  little  soul.  Look  here,  the  cutlets  are 
getting  cold,  and  there's  all  these  mullets 
steaming  away  for  nothing.  Come  and  eat,  and 
the  thing  won't  seem  so  terrible.' 

Being  versed  in  the  ways  of  consolations,  he 
opened  a  bottle  of  Moselle  with  an  inviting 
rush  of  sound,  and  let  the  golden  stream  foam 
itself  softly  over  a  lump  of  ice  in  a  glass.  Lady 
Dolly  looked  up^  dried  her  eyes,  and  sat  down 
at  the  table. 

^  Vere  must  be  hungry,  surely,'  she  said,  with 
a  sudden  remembrance,  twenty  minutes  later, 
eating   her  last  morsel   of  a  truffled  timhdle. 

The  counsellor  smiled  grimly. 

'  It's  rather  late  to  think  about  that ;  I  sent 
her  her  breakfast  before  you  came  in,' 


26  MOTHS, 


'  Dear  me  !  how  very  fatherly  of  you  ! ' 

The  counsellor  laughed.  *I  feel  like  her 
father,  I  assure  you.' 

Lady  Dolly  coloured,  and  lit  a  cigarette. 
She  felt  that  she  would  not  digest  her  break- 
fast. Henceforth  there  would  be  two  bills  to 
pay — the  interest  of  them  at  any  rate — at  all 
the  great  tailors'  and  milliners'  houses  in  Paris 
and  London ;  she  had  an  uneasy  sense  that  to 
whirl  in  and  out  the  mazes  of  the  cotillons,  or 
smoke  your  cigarette  on  the  smooth  lawns 
of  shooting- clubs,  vis-a-vis  with  your  own 
daughter,  was  a  position,  in  the  main,  rather 
ridiculous ;  and  she  had  still  an  uneasier  con- 
viction that  the  girl  in  the  brown  holland 
would  not  be  taught  in  a  moment  to  compre- 
hend the  necessity  for  the  existence  of  Jack 
— and  the  rest. 

'  That  horrid  old  duchess  ! '  she  murmured, 
sinking  to  sleep  with  the  last  atom  of  her 
cigarette  crumbling  itself  away  on  the  open 
page  of  a  French  novel.  For  it  was  the 
duchess  who  had  sent  her  Yere. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Lady  Dorothy  Vakderdecken,  who  was 
Lady  Dolly  to  everybody,  down  to  tlie  very 
"boys  that  ran  after  her  carriage  in  the  streets, 
was  the  seventh  daughter  of  a  very  poor  peer, 
the  Earl  of  Caterham,  who  was  a  clever  poli- 
tician, bnt  always  in  a  chronic  state  of  financial 
embarassment.  Lady  Dolly  had  made  a  very 
silly  love-match  with  her  own  cousin,  Yere 
Herbert,  a  younger  son  of  her  uncle  the  Duke 
of  Mull  and  Cantire,  when  she  was  only  seven- 
teen, and  he  had  just  left  Oxford  and  entered 
the  Church.  But  Vere  Herbert  had  only  lived 
long  enough  for  her  to  begin  to  get  very  tired  of 
his  countrv  parsonage  in  the  wilds  of  the  Devon- 


28  MOTHS. 


shire  moors,  and  to  be  left  before  she  was  twenty 
with  a  miserable  pittance  for  her  portion,  and 
a  little  daughter  twelve  months  old  to  plague 
her  farther.  Lady  Dolly  cried  terribly  for  a 
fortnight,  and  thought  she  cried  for  love,  when 
she  only  cried  for  worry.  In  another  fortnight 
or  so  she  had  ceased  to  cry,  had  found  out  that 
crape  brightened  her  pretty  tea-rose  skin,  had 
discarded  her  baby  to  the  care  of  her  aunt  and 
mother-in-law,  the  old  and  austere  Duchess  of 
Mull,  and  had  gone  for  her  health  with  her 
own  gay  little  mother,  the  Countess  of  Cater- 
ham,  to  the  south  of  France.  In  the  south  of 
France  Lady  Doily  forgot  that  she  had  ever 
cried  at  all ;  and  in  a  year's  time  from  the  loss 
of  Vere  Herbert  had  married  herself  again  to  a 
Mr.  Vanderdecken,  an  Englishman  of  Dutch 
extraction,  a  rich  man,  of  no  remarkable 
lineage,  a  financier,  a  contractor,  a  politician, 
a  very  restless  creature,  always  rushing  about 
alone,  and  never  asking  any  questions — which 
suited  her.  On  the  other  hand  it  suited  him 
to  ally  himself  with  a  score  of  great  families, 
and  obtain  a  lovely  and  high-born  wife ;  it  was 


Moths.  29 


one  of  tliose  marriages  whicli  everybody  calls 
so  sensible,  so  suitable,  so  very  nice!  Quite 
unlike  the  marriage  with  poor  Vere  Herbert, 
which  everybody  had  screamed  at,  as  they  had 
not  made  up  five  hundred  a  year  in  income,  or 
forty-five  years  in  age,  between  them. 

Lady  Dolly  and  Mr.  Vanderdecken  did  not 
perhaps  find  it  so  perfectly  well  assorted  when 
they  had  had  a  little  of  it ;  she  thought  him 
stingy,  he  thought  her  frivolous,  but  they  did 
not  tell  anybody  else  so,  and  so  everybody 
always  said  that  the  marriage  was  very  nice. 
They  were  always  seen  in  the  Bois  and  the  Park 
together,  and  always  kept  house  together  three 
months  every  spring  in  London  ;  they  went  to 
country  houses  together,  and  certainly  dined 
out  together  at  least  a  dozen  times  every 
season  :  nothing  could  be  nicer.  Lady  Dolly  took 
care  of  that. 

She  thought  him  a  great  bore,  a  great 
screw ;  she  never  had  enough  money  by  half, 
and  he  was  sometimes  very  nasty  about  checques. 
But  he  was  not  troublesome  about  anything 
else,  and  was  generally  head  over  ears  in  some 


30  MOTHS. 


wonderful  loan,  or  contract,  or  subsidy,  which 
entailed  distant  journeys,  and  absorbed  him 
entirely ;  so  that,  on  the  whole,  she  was  content 
and  enjoyed  herself. 

This  morning,  however,  she  had  gone  down 
to  the  shore  not  indeed  fully  anticipating  such 
a  blow  as  had  fallen  upon  her,  but  rufiled,  dis- 
gusted, and  nervous,  conscious  that  her  daughter 
was  travelling  towards  her,  and  furious  with 
the  person  she  termed  a  '  horrid  old  cat.' 

The  old  cat  was  the  now  dowager  Duchess 
of  Mull,  who  for  fifteen  years  had  kept  safe  in 
Northumbria  the  daughter  of  poor  Yere,  and 
now  had  hurled  her  like  a  cannon-ball  at  Lady 
Dolly's  head  in  this  hideous,  abominable,  un- 
foreseen manner,  straight  on  the  sands  of 
Trouville,  in  sight  of  that  snake  in  angel's 
guise,  the  Princesse  Helene  Olgarouski ! 

Lady  Dolly,  who  never  would  allow  that 
she  gave  up  lier  maternal  rights,  though  she 
would  never  be  bored  with  maternal  responsi- 
bilities, had  quarrelled  for  the  nine-hundredth 
time  (by  post)  with  the  Duchess  of  Mull; 
quarrelled  desperately,  impudently,  irrevocably, 


MOTHS.  31 


quarrelled  once  too  often;  and  the  result  of 
the  quarrel  had  been  the  instant  despatch  of 
her  daughter  to  Trouville,  with  the  duchess's 
declaration  that  she  could  struggle  for  the 
soul  of  her  poor  son's  child  no  longer,  and  that 
come  what  would,  she  consigned  Vere  to  her 
mother  then  and  for  ever  more. 

'  The  horrid  woman  will  be  howling  for  the 
child  again  in  a  week's  time,'  thought  Lady 
Dolly,  *  but  she  has  done  it  to  spite  me,  and 
I'll  keep  the  child  to  spite  her.  That's  only 
fair.' 

The  duchess  had  taken  her  at  her  word, 
that  was  all ;  but  then,  indeed,  there  are  few 
things  more  spiteful  that  one  can  do  to  anybody 
than  to  take  them  at  their  word.  Lady  Dolly 
had  been  perplexed,  irritated,  and  very  angry 
with  herself  for  having  written  all  that  rubbish 
about  suffering  from  the  unnatural  deprivation 
of  her  only  child's  society ;  rubbish  which  had 
brought  this  stroke  of  retribution  on  her 
head. 

She  had  pulled  her  blonde  pe^ruque  all  awry 
in  her  vexation ;  she  did  not  want  ih^t perruqiie 


82  MOTHS. 


at  all,  for  her  own  hair  was  thick  and  pretty, 
but  she  covered  it  up  and  wore  the  'perruque 
because  it  was  the  fashion  to  do  so. 

Lady  Dolly  had  always  been,  and  was  very 
pretty :  she  had  lovely  large  eyes,  and  the 
tiniest  mouth,  and  a  complexion  which  did  not 
want  all  the  pains  she  bestowed  on  it ;  when 
she  had  not  the  jperruque  on,  she  had  dark  silky 
hair  all  tumbled  about  over  her  eyebrows  in  a 
disarray  that  cost  her  maid  two  hours  to 
compose ;  and  her  eyebrows  themselves  were 
drawn  beautifully  in  two  fine,  dark,  slender 
lines  by  a  pencil  that  supplied  the  one  defect  of 
Nature.  When  she  was  seventeen,  at  the 
rectory,  amongst  the  rosebuds  on  the  lawn,  she 
had  been  a  rosebud  herself;  now  she  was  a 
Dresden  statuette  ;  the  statuette  was  the  more 
finished  and  brilliant  beauty  of  the  two,  and 
never  seemed  the  worse  for  wear.  This  is  the 
advantage  of  artificial  over  natural  loveliness ; 
the  latter  will  alter  with  health  or  feeling,  the 
former  never ;  it  is  always  the  same,  unless 
you  come  in  on  it  at  its  toilette,  or  see  it  when 
it  is  very  ill. 


MOTHS.  33 


Lady  Dolly  this  morning  woke  up  prema- 
turely from  her  sleep  and  fancied  she  was  in. 
the  old  parsonage  gardens  on  the  lawn,  amongst 
the  roses  in  Devonshire,  with  poor  Vere's  pale 
handsome  face  looking  down  so  tenderly  on 
hers.  She  felt  a  mist  before  her  eyes,  a  tight- 
ness at  her  throat ;  a  vague  and  worried  pain 
all  over  her.  '  It  is  the  prawns  ! '  she  said  to 
herself,  *  I  will  never  smoke  after  prawns 
again.' 

She  was  all  alone ;  the  counsellor  had  gone 
to  his  schooner,  other  counsellors  were  at  their 
hotels,  it  was  an  hour  when  everything  except 
Englishmen  and  dogs  were  indoors.  She 
rose,  shook  her  muslin  breakfast-wrapper 
about  her  impatiently,  and  went  to  see  her 
daughter. 

'  He  use(3  to  be  so  fond  of  me,  poor  fellow  !  * 
she  thought.  Such  a  pure  fond  passion  then 
amongst  the  roses  by  the  sea.  It  had  all  been 
very  silly,  and  he  had  used  to  bore  her  dread- 
fully with  Keble,  and  his  namesake,  George  of 
holy  memory,  and  that  old  proser  Thomas 
a-Kempis ;   but  still  it  had    been  a   different 

VOL.    I.  D 


34  MOTHS. 


thing  to  all  tliese  other  loves.  He  lay  in  his 
grave  there  by  the  Atlantic  amongst  the  Devon 
roses,  and  she  had  had  no  memory  of  him  for 
many  a  year,  and  when  he  had  been  alive,  she 
had  thought  the  church  and  the  old  women, 
and  the  saints,  and  the  flannel,  and  the  choral 
services,  and  the  matins-  and  vesper-nonsense, 
all  so  tiresome  ;  but  still  he  had  loved  her.  Of 
course  they  all  adored  her  now,  heaps  of  them 
— but  his  love  had  been  a  different  thing  to 
theirs.  And  somehow  Lady  Dolly  felt  a  tinge 
and  twinge  of  shame. 

'  Poor  Vere,'  she  murmured  to  herself  ten- 
derly ;  and  so  went  to  see  his  daughter,  who 
had  been  called  after  him  by  that  absurd  old 
woman,  the  Duchess  of  Mull,  with  whom  Lady 
Dolly  in  her  dual  relation  of  niece  and  daugh- 
ter-in-law had  always  waged  a  fierce  undying 
war :  a  war  in  which  she  had  now  got  the 
worst  of  it, 

'  May  I  come  in,  dear  ?  '  she  said  at  the 
bed-chamber  door.  She  felt  almost  nervous. 
It  was  very  absurd,  but  why  vrould  the  girl 
have  her  dead  father's  eves  ? 


MOTHS. 


The  girl  opened  the  door  and  stood  silent. 

'A  beautiful  creature.  They  are  quite 
right,'  thought  Lady  Dolly,  now  that  her  brain 
was  no  longer  filled  with  the  dreadful  rumpled 
brown  hoUand,  and  the  smiling  face  of  Princess 
Helene.  The  girl  was  in  a  white  wrapper  like 
her  own,  only  without  any  lace,  and  any  of  the 
ribbons  that  adorned  Lady  Dolly  at  all  points, 
as  tassels  a  Eoman  horse  at  Carnival.  Lady 
Dolly  was  too  lovely  herself,  and  also  far  too 
contented  with  herself  to  feel  any  jealousy; 
but  she  looked  at  her  daughter  critically,  as 
she  would  have  looked  at  a  young  untried 
actress  on  the  boards  of  the  Odeon.  'Quite 
another  style  to  me,  that  is  fortunate,'  she 
thought  as  she  looked.  'Like  Vere — very — 
quite  extraordinarily  like  Yere — only  hand- 
somer still.' 

Then  she  kissed  her  daughter  very  prettily 
on  both  cheeks,  and  with  effusion  embraced 
her,  much  as  she  embraced  Princess  Helene  or 
anybody  else  that  she  hated. 

'  You  took  me  by  surprise  to-day,  love,'  she 
said  with  a  little    accent  of    apology,   ^  and 

D2 


36  MOTHS. 


you  know  I  do  so  detest  scenes.     Pray  try  and 
remember  that.' 

'  Scenes  ?  '  said  Vere.  '  Please  what  are 
they?' 

*  Scenes  ? '  said  Lady  Dolly,  kissing  her 
once  more,  and  a  little  puzzled  as  everybody 
is,  who  is  suddenly  asked  to  define  a  familiar 
word.  '  Scenes  ?  Well,  dear  me,  scenes  are — 
scenes.  Anything,  you  know,  that  makes  a 
fuss,  that  looks  silly,  that  sets  people  laughing ; 
don't  you  understand  ?  Anything  done  before 
people,  you  know  :  it  is  vulgar.' 

*  I  think  I  understand,'  said  Vere  Herbert. 
She  was  a  very  lovely  girl,  and  despite  her 
height  still  looked  a  child.  Her  small  head 
was  perfectly  poised  on  a  slender  neck,  and  her 
face,  quite  colourless,  with  a  complexion  like 
the  leaf  of  a  white  rose,  had  perfect  features, 
straight,  delicate,  and  noble  ;  her  fair  hair  was 
cut  square  over  her  brows,  and  loosely  knotted 
behind ;  she  had  a  beautiful  serious  mouth,  not 
so  small  as  her  mother's,  and  serene  eyes,  grey 
as  night,  contemplative,  yet  wistful. 

She  was  calm  and  still.     She  had  cried  as 


MOTHS.  37 


if  her  heart  would  break,  but  she  would  have 
died  rather  than  let  her  mother  guess  it.  She 
had  been  what  the  French  call  refoulee  sur 
elle-meme  j  and  the  process  is  chilling. 

*  Have  you  all  you  want  ?  '  said  Lady  Dolly, 
casting  a  hasty  glance  round  the  room.  *  You 
know  I  didn't  expect  you,  dear;  not  in  the 
least.' 

'  Surely  my  grandmother  wrote  ?  ' 

'Your  grandmother  telegraphed  that  you. 
had  started ;  just  like  her  !  Of  course  I  wished 
to  have  you  here,  and  meant  to  do  so,  but  not 
all  in  a  moment.' 

'  The  horrid  old  woman  will  be  howling  for 
the  child  back  again  in  three  weeks'  time,' 
thought  Lady  Dolly  once  more.  '  But  she  has 
done  it  to  spite  me  :  the  old  cat !  ' 

'  Are  you  sorry  to  come  to  me,  love  ?  '  she 
said  sweetly  meanwhile,  drawing  Vere  down 
beside  her  on  a  couch. 

'  I  ivas  very  glad,'  answered  Yere. 

Lady  Dolly  discreetly  omitted  to  notice  the 
past  tense.  '  Ah,  no  doubt,  very  dear  of  you  ! 
It  is  three  years  since  I  saw  you ;  for  those  few 


38  MOTHS, 


days  at  Bulmer  hardly  count.  Bulmer  is 
terribly  dull,  isn't  it  ? ' 

'  I  suppose  it  is  dull ;  I  was  not  so.  If 
grandmamma  had  not  been  so  often ' 

'  Cross  as  two  sticks,  you  mean/  laughed 
Lady  Dolly.  '  Oh,  I  know  her,  my  dear  :  the 
most  disagreea^ble  person  that  ever  lived.  The 
dear  old  duke  was  so  nice  and  so  handsome ; 
but  you  hardly  remember  him,  of  course.  Your 
grandmamma  is  a  cat,  dear — a  cat,  positively  a 
cat !  We  will  not  talk  about  her.  And  how 
she  has  dressed  you  !  It  is  quite  wicked  to 
dress  a  girl  like  that,  it  does  her  taste  so 
much  harm.     You  are  very  handsome,  Yere.' 

'  Yes  ?     I  am  like  my  father  they  say.' 

'  Yery.' 

Lady  Dolly  felt  the  mist  over  her  eyes  again, 
and  this  time  knew  it  was  not  the  prawns.  She 
saw  the  sunny  lawn  in  Devon,  and  the  roses, 
and  the  little  large-eyed  child  at  her  breast. 
Heavens  !  what  a  long  way  away  all  that  time 
seemed. 

She  gazed  intently  at  Yere  with  a  musing 
pathetic  tenderness  that  moved  the  girl,  and 


MOTHS,  39 


made  her  tremble  and  glow,  because  at  last 
this  lovely  mother  of  hers  seemed  to  feel. 
Lady  Dolly's  gaze  grew  graver  and  graver, 
more  and  more  introspective. 

^  She  is  thinking  of  the  past  and  of  my 
father/  thought  the  girl  tenderl}',  and  her 
young  heart  swelled  with  reverent  sympathy. 
She  did  not  dare  to  break  her  mother's  silence. 

'  Yere  ! '  said  Lady  Dolly  dreamily,  at 
length,  ^  I  am  trying  to  think  what  one  can  do 
to  get  you  decent  clothes.  My  maid  must  run 
up  something  for  you  to  wear  by  to-morrow. 
It  is  a  pity  to  keep  you  shut  up  all  this 
beautiful  weather,  and  a  little  life  will  do  you 
good  after  that  prison  at  Bulmer.  I  am  sure 
those  three  days  I  was  last  there  I  thought  1 
should  have  yawned  till  I  broke  my  neck,  I 
did  indeed,  dear.  She  would  hardly  let  me 
have  breakfast  in  my  own  room,  and  she  luould 
dine  at  six! — six!  But  she  was  never  like 
anybody  else ;  when  even  the  duke  was  alive 
she  was  the  most  obstinate,  humdrum,  nasty 
old  scratch-cat  in  the  county.  Such  ideas  too  ! 
Sh^  wa«  a  sort  of  W^^sley  in  petticoats,  and.  by 


40  MOTHS. 


the  way,  her  gowns  were  never  long  enough  for 
her.  But  I  was  saying,  dear,  I  will  have 
Adrienne  run  up  something  for  you  directly. 
She  is  clever.  I  never  let  a  maid  mahe  a  dress. 
It  is  absurd.  You  might  as  well  want  Eubin- 
stein  to  make  the  violin  he  plays  on.  If  she  is 
inferior,  she  will  make  you  look  a  dowdy.  If 
she  is  a  really  good  maid  she  will  not  make, 
she  will  arrange,  what  your  tailor  has  made, 
and  perfect  it — nothing  more.  But  still,  for 
you,  Adrienne  will  go  out  of  her  way  for  once. 
She  shall  combine  a  few  little  things,  and  she 
can  get  a  girl  to  sew  them  for  her.  Something 
to  go  out  in  they  really  must  manage  for 
to-morrow.  You  shall  have  brown  holland  if 
you  are  so  fond  of  it,  dear,  but  you  shall  see 
what  brown  holland  can  look  like  with  Adrienne.' 
Yere  sat  silent. 

*  By  the  bye,'  said  her  mother  vivaciously, 
^  didn't  you  bring  a  maid  ?  Positively,  not  a 
maid?' 

^  Grandmama  sent  Keziah  :  she  has  always 
done  very  well  for  me.' 

*  Keziah ! '  echoed  Lady  Dolly  with  a  shudder. 


MOTHS.  41 


^  How  exactly  it  is  like  your  grandmotlier  to 
give  you  a  woman  called  Keziah !  That  horrible 
Fraulein  one  might  dismiss  too,  don't  you  think? 
You  are  old  enough  to  do  without  her,  and  you 
shall  have  a  nice  French  maid ;  Adrienne  will 
soon  find  one.' 

The  girl's  eyes  dilated  with  fear. 

*  Oh  !  pray  do  not  send  away  the  Fraulein  ! 
We  are  now  in  the  conic  sections.' 

*  The  what  ?  '  said  Lady  Dolly. 

'I  mean  I  could  not  go  on  in  science  or 
mathematics  without  her,  and  besides,  she  is  so 
good.' 

'  Mathematics !  science !  why,  what  can  you 
want  to  make  yourself  hateful  for,  like  a  Girton 
College  guy? ' 

'  I  want  to  know  things ;  pray  do  not  send 
away  the  Fraulein.' 

Lady  Dolly,  who  was  at  heart  very  good- 
natured  when  her  own  comfort  was  not  too  much 
interfered  with,  patted  her  cheek  and  laughed. 

'What  should  jou  want  to  know? — know 
how  to  dress,  how  to  curtsey,  how  to  look  your 
best;  that  is  all  you  want  to  know.   Believe  me, 


42  MOTHS. 


men  will  ask  notliing  more  of  you.  As  for  your 
hideous  Schroder,  I  think  her  the  most  odious 
person  in  existence,  except  your  grandmother. 
But  if  her  blue  spectacles  comfort  you,  keep 
her  at  present.  Of  course  you  will  want  some- 
body to  be  with  you  a  good  deal :  I  can't  be ; 
and  I  suppose  you'll  have  to  stay  with  me  now. 
You  may  be  seen  here  a  little,  and  wherever  I 
go  in  autumn ;  then  you  can  come  out  in  Pari« 
in  the  wintar,  and  be  presented  next  spring.  I 
shall  do  it  to  spite  your  grandmother,  who  has 
behaved  disgracefully  to  me — disgracefully !  I 
believe  she'd  be  capable  of  coming  up  to  London 
to  present  you  herself,  though  she's  never  set 
foot  there  for  fifteen  years ! ' 

Yere  was  silent. 

'  What  do  you  like  best  ? '  said  her  mother 
suddenly.  Something  in  the  girl  worried  her: 
she  could  not  have  said  what  it  was. 

Yere  lifted  her  great  eyes  dreamily. 

^  Greek,'  she  answered. 

'  Greek  I  a  horse  ?  a  pony  9  a  dog  ? ' 

'A  language,'  said  Yere. 

'  Of  pourse  (Irppk  is  a  language :  T  know 


MOTHS.  43 


that/  said  her  mother  irritably.  'But  of  course 
I  thought  you  meant  something*  natural,  sen- 
sible ;  some  pet  of  some  kind.  And  what  do 
you  like  best  after  that,  pray  ? ' 

^  Music — Greek  is  like  music' 

'  Oh  dear  me  ! '  sighed  Lady  Dolly. 

^I  can  ride;  I  am  fond  of  riding,'  added 
Yere ;  '  and  I  can  shoot,  and  row,  and  sail,  and 
steer  a  boat.     The  keepers  taught  me.' 

'  Well,  that  sort  of  thing  goes  down  rather, 
now  that  they  walk  with  the  guns,  though  I'm 
quite  sure  men  wish  them  anywhere  all  the 
Avhile,'  said  Lady  Dolly,  somewhat  vaguely. 
'  Only  you  must  be  masculine  with-  it,  and 
slangy,  and  you  don't  seem  to  me  to  be  that  in 
the  least.  Do  you  know,  Vere — it  is  a  horrible 
thing  to  say — but  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  you 
will  be  just  the  old-fashioned,  prudish,  open- 
air,  touch-me-not  Englishwoman !  I  am  in- 
deed. Now  you  know  that  won't  answer 
anywhere,  nowadays. 

'  Answer — what  ? ' 

'  Don't  take  my  words  up  like  that,  it  is 
rude.     I  mean,  you  know,  that  kind  of  style  is 


44  MOTHS. 


gone  out  altogether,  pleases  nobody ;  men  hate 
it.  The  only  women  that  please  nowadays  are 
Russians  and  Americans.  Why  P  Because  in 
their  totally  different  ways  they  neither  of  them 
care  one  fig  what  they  do  if  only  it  please  them 
to  do  it.  They  are  all  chic  you  know.  Now 
you  haven't  a  bit  of  chic ;  you  look  like  a 
creature  out  of  Burne  Jones's  things,  don't 
you  know,  only  more — more — ^religious-looking. 
You  really  look  as  if  you  were  studying  your 
Bible  every  minute ;  it  is  most  extraordinary  ! 

*  Her  father  iijould  read  me  Keble  and 
Kempis  before  she  was  born,'  thought  Lady 
Dolly  angrily,  her  wrath  rising  against  the  dead 
man  for  the  psychological  inconsistencies  in 
her  daughter ;  a  daughter  she  would  have  been 
a  million   times  better  without   at  any  time. 

*  Well,  then,  my  love,'  she  said  suddenly ; 
'  you  shall  ride  and  you  shall  swim  ;  that  will 
certainly  help  you  better  than  your  Greek  and 
your  conic  sessions,  whatever  they  may  be,  they 
sound  like  something  about  magistrates,  per- 
haps they  have  taught  you  law  as  well  ?  ' 

'  May  I  swim  here  ?  '  asked  Vere. 


MOTHS.  45 


'  Of  course ;  it's  the  thing  to  do.  Can  you 
dive?' 

'  Oh  yes  !     I  am  used  to  the  water.' 

'  Very  well,  then.  But  wait ;  you  can't 
have  any  bathing-dress  ?  ' 

'  Yes.  I  brought  it.  Would  you  wish  to 
see  it  ?     Keziah ' 

Keziah  was  bidden  to  seek  for  and  brins: 
out  the  bathing-dress,  and  after  a  little  delay 
did  so. 

Lady  Dolly  looked.  Gradually  an  expression 
of  horror,  such  as  is  depicted  on  the  faces  of 
those  who  are  supposed  to  see  ghosts,  spread 
itself  over  her  countenance  and  seemed  to 
change  it  to  stone. 

'  That  thing  ! '  she  gasped. 

What  she  saw  was  the  long  indigo-coloured 
linen  gown — high  to  the  throat  and  down  to 
the  feet — of  the  uneducated  British  bather, 
whose  mind  has  not  been  opened  by  the  sweet- 
ness and  light  of  continental  shores. 

*  That  thing  !  '  gasped  Lady  Dolly. 

'  What  is  the  matter  with  it  ? '  said_Yere, 
timidly  and  perplexed^ 


46  MOTHS. 


'  Matter  ?     It  is  indecent ! ' 

'  Indecent  ? '  Yere  coloured  all  over  tlie 
wliite  rose-leaf  beauty  of  her  face. 

'  Indecent/  reiterated  Lady  Dolly.  '  If  it 
isn't  worse !  Good  gracious !  It  must  have 
been  worn  at  the  deluge.  The  very  children 
would  stone  you!  Of  course  I  knew  you 
couldn't  have  any  decent  dress.  You  shall 
have  one  like  mine  made  to-morrow,  and  then 
you  can  kick  about  as  you  like.  Blue  and 
white  or  blue  and  pink.     You  shall  see  mine.' 

She  rang,  and  sent  one  of  her  maids  for  one 
of  her  bathing  costumes,  which  were  many  and 
of  all  hues. 

Yere  looked  at  the  brilliant  object  vdien  it 
arrived,  ^Duzzled  and  troubled  by  it.  She  could 
not  understand  it.  It  appeared  to  be  cut  off 
at  the  shoulders  and  the  knees. 

^  It  is  like  v^hat  the  circus-riders  wear,'  she 
said,  with  a  deep  breath. 

'  Well,  it  is,  now  you  name  it,'  said  Lady 
Dolly  amused,    '  You  shall  have  one  to-morrow.' 

Yere's  face  crimsoned. 

'  But  what  covers  one's  legs  and  arms  ? ' 


MOTHS.  47 


'  Nothing  !  what  a  little  sillj  you  are.  I 
suppose  you  have  nothing  the  matter  with 
them,  have  you  ?  no  mark,  or  twist,  or  any- 
thing ?  I  don't  remember  any  when  you  were 
little.  '!'ou  were  thought  an  extraordinarily 
well-made  baby.' 

Might  one  then  go  naked  provided  only 
one  had  no  mark  or  twist?  Vere  wondered, 
and  wondered  at  the  world  into  which  she 
had  strayed. 

'  I  would  never  wear  a  costume  like  that,' 
she  said  quietly  after  a  little  pause. 

'  You  will  wear  what  I  tell  you,'  said  her 
sweet  little  mother  sharply  ;  ^  and  for  goodness' 
sake,  child,  don't  be  a  prude  whatever  you 
are.  Prudes  belong  to  JSToah's  Ark,  like  your 
bathing-gown.' 

Vere  was  silent. 

'  Is  Mr.  Vanderdecken  here  ?  '  she  asked  at 
length,  to  change  the  theme,  and,  finding  her 
mother  did  not  speak  again,  who,  indeed,  was 
busy,  thinking  what  her  clothes  were  likely  to 
cost,  and  also  whether  she  would  arrange  a 
marriage  for  her  with  the  young  Due  de  Tarn- 


48  MOTHS. 


bour,  son  of  the  Prince  de  Chambree.  The  best 
alliance  she  could  think  of  at  the  minute — but 
then  the  poor  child  had  no  dot, 

'  Mr.  Vanderdecken  ?  '  said  Lady  Dolly 
waking  to  fact.  '  Oh,  he  is  on  the  sea  going 
somewhere.  He  is  always  going  somewhere  ; 
it  is  Java  or  Japan,  or  Jupiter;  something 
with  a  J.  He  makes  his  money  in  that  sort 
of  way,  you  knov/.  I  never  understand  it 
myself.  Whenever  people  want  money  he  goes, 
and  he  makes  it  because  the  people  he  goes  to 
haven't  got  any ;  isn't  it  queer  ?  Come  here. 
Do  you  know,  Yere,  you  are  very  pretty  ?  You 
will  be  very  handsome.     Kiss  me  again,  dear.' 

Yere  did  so,  learning,  by  a  kind  of  intuition, 
that  she  must  touch  her  mother  without  in- 
juring the  artistic  work  of  the  maids  and  the 
*  little  secrets.'  Then  she  stood  silent  and 
passive. 

*  She  is  an  uncomfortable  girl,'  thought 
Lady  Dolly  once  more.  'And,  dear  me,  so  like 
poor  Yere  !  What  a  tall  creature  you  are  get- 
ting,' she  said  aloud.  '  You  will  be  married  in 
another  year.' 


MOTHS.  49 


'  Oh  no ! '  said  Yere  with  a  glance  of  alarm. 

'  You  unnatural  child !  How  on  earth 
would  you  like  to  live  if  you  don't  want  to  be 
married  ? ' 

'  With  the  Fraulein  in  the  country.' 

'  All  your  life  !     And  die  an  old  maid  ? ' 

'  I  should  not  mind.' 

Lady  Dolly  laughed,  but  it  was  with  a  sort 
of  shock  and  shudder,  as  an  orthodox  person 
laughs  when  they  hear  what  is  amusing  but 
irreverent. 

'  Why  do  you  say  such  things  ? '  she  said 
impatiently.  '  They  are  nonsense,  and  you 
don't  mean  them.' 

'  I  mean  them — quite.' 

'  Nonsense !  '  said  Lady  Dolly,  who  never 
discussed  with  an3'body,  finding  asseveration 
answer  all  purposes  very  much  better ;  as,  in 
deed,  it  does  in  most  cases.  '  Well,  good-bye 
my  love ;  you  want  to  rest,  and  you  can't  go 
out  till  you  have  something  to  wear,  and  I 
have  an  immense  deal  to  do.  Good-bye ;  you 
are  very  pretty  ! ' 

'  Who  was  that  gentleman  I  saw  ?  '  asked 

VOL.    I.  B 


50  MOTHS. 


Vere,  as  her  mother  rose  and  kissed  her  once 
more  on  her  silky  fair  hair.  '  Is  he  any  relation 
of  papa's  ?     He  was  very  kind.' 

Lady  Dolly  coloured  ever  so  little. 

'  Oh !  that's  Jack.  Surely  you  remember 
seeing  Jack  three  years  ago  at  Homburg,  when 
you  came  out  to  meet  me  there  ?  ' 

'  Is  he  a  relation  of  ours  ? ' 

^  No ;  not  a  relation  exactly ;  only  a  friend.' 

'  And  has  he  no  name  but  Jack  ?  ' 

'  Of  course.  Don't  say  silly  things.  He  is 
Lord  Jura,  Lord  Shetland's  son.  He  is  in  the 
Guards.  A  very  old  acquaintance,  dear — recol- 
lects you  as  a  baby.' 

^  A  friend  of  my  father's  then  ?  ' 

^Well,  no  dear,  not  quite.  Not  quite  so 
far  back  as  that.  Certainly  he  may  have  fagged 
for  poor  Vere  at  Eton  perhaps,  but  I  doubt  it. 
Good-bye,  darling.  I  will  send  you  Adrienne. 
You  may  put  yourself  in  her  hands  blindly. 
She  has  perfect  taste.' 

Then  Lady  Dolly  opened  the  door,  and 
escaped. 

Yere  Herbert  was  left  to  herself.     She  was 


MOTHS.  61 


not  tired  ;  slie  was  strong  and  healthful,  for  all 
the  Avhite  rose  paleness  of  her  fair  shin  ;  and  a 
twelve  hours'  tossing  on  the  sea,  and  a  day  or 
two's  rumbling  on  the  rail,  had  no  power  to 
fatigue  her.  Her  grandmother,  thongh  a  hum- 
drum and  a  cat,  according  to  Lady  Dolly,  had 
sundry  old-fashioned  notions  from  which  the 
girl  had  benefitted  both  in  body  and  mind, 
and  the  fresh  strong  air  of  Buhner  Chase — a 
breezy  old  forest  place  on  the  Northumberland 
seashore,  where  the  morose  old  duchess  found 
a  dower  house  to  her  taste — had  braced  her 
physically,  as  study  and  the  absence  of  any  sort 
of  excitement  had  done  mentally,  and  made 
her  as  unlike  her  mother  as  anything  female 
could  have  been.  The  Duchess  of  Mull  was 
miserly,  cross-tempered,  and  old-fashioned  in 
her  ways  and  in  her  prejudices,  but  she  was  an 
upright  w^oman,  a  gentlewoman,  and  no  fool, 
.as  she  would  say  herself.  She  had  been  harsh 
with  the  girl,  but  she  had  loved  her  and  been 
just  to  her,  and  Yere  had  spent  her  life  at 
Bulmer  Chase  not  unhappily,  varied  only  by  an 
occasional  visit  to  Lady  Doly,  who  had  always 

E  2 


Ss>nonum<«s 


62  MOTHS. 


seemed  to  the  cliild  something  too  bright  and 
fair  to  be  mortal,  and  to  have  an  enchanted 
existence,  where  caramels  and  cosaques  rained, 
and  music  was  always  heard,  and  the  sun  shone 
all  day  long. 

She  was  all  alone.  The  Fraulein  was 
asleep  in  the  next  room.  The  maid  did  not 
come.  The  girl  kneeled  down  by  the  window- 
seat  and  looked  out  through  one  of  the  chinks 
oi  the  blinds.  It  was  late  afternoon  by  the 
sun ;  the  human  butterflies  were  beginning  to 
come  out  again.  Looking  up  and  down  she 
saw  the  whole  sunshiny  coast,  and  the  dancing 
water  that  was  boisterous  enough  to  be  pretty 
and  to  swell  the  canvas  of  the  yachts  standing 
off  the  shore. 

'  How  bright  it  all  looks ! '  she  thought, 
with  a  little  sigh  ;  the  salt  fresh  smell  did  her 
good,  and  Buhner,  amidst  its  slowly  budding 
woods  and  dreary  moors,  and  long  dark 
winters,  had  been  anything  but  bright.  Yet 
she  felt  very  unhappy  and  lonely.  Her  mother 
seemed  a  great  deal  farther  away  than  she  had 
done  when  Vere  had  sat  dreaming  about  her 


MOTHS.  63 


on  the  side  of  the  rough  heathered  hills,  with 
the  herons  calling  across  from  one  marshy  pool 
to  another. 

She  leaned  against  the  green  blind  and 
ceased  to  see  the  sea  and  the  sky,  the  beach 
and  the  butterflies,  for  a  little  while,  her  tears 
were  so  full  under  her  lashes,  and  she  did  her 
best  to  keep  them  back.  She  was  full  of  pain 
because  her  mother  did  ,not  care  for  her ;  but, 
indeed,  why  should  she  care?  said  Vere  to 
herself;  they  had  been  so  little  together. 

She  looked,  almost  without  seeing  it  at 
first,  at  the  picture  underneath  her ;  the  stream, 
which  gradually  swelled  and  grew  larger,  of 
beautifully-dressed  fairy-like  women,  whose 
laughter  every  now  and  then  echoed  up  to  her. 
It  was  one  unbroken  current  of  harmonious 
colour,  rolled  out  like  a  brilliant  riband  on 
the  fawn-coloured  sand  against  the  azure 
sea. 

'  And  have  they  all  nothing  to  do  but  to 
enjoy  themselves  ?  '  thought  Yere.  It  seemed 
so.  If  Black  Care  were  anywhere  at  Trouville, 
as  it  was  everywhere  else  in  the  world,  it  took 


64  MOTHS. 


pains  to  wear  a  face  like  tlie  rest  and  read  its 
*  Figaro.' 

She  heard  the  door  underneath  unclose,  and 
from  nnderneath  the  green  verandah  she  saw 
her  mother  sannter  out.  Three  other  ladies 
were  with  her  and  half  a  dozen  men.  Thej 
were  talking  and  laughing  all  at  once,  no  one 
waiting  to  be  listened  to  or  seeming  to  expect 
it ;  thej  walked  across  the  beach  and  sat  down. 
They  put  up  gorgeous  sunshades  and  outspread 
huge  fans  •.  they  were  all  twitter,  laughter, 
colour,  mirth. 

All  this  going  to  and  fro  of  gay  people,  the 
patter  of  feet  and  flutter  of  petticoats,  amused 
the  girl  to  watch  almost  as  much  as  if  she  had 
been  amidst  it.  There  were  such  a  sparkle  of 
sea,  such  a  radiance  of  sunshine,  such  a  rain- 
bow of  colour,  that  though  it  would  have  com- 
posed ill  for  a  landscape,  it  made  a  pretty 
panorama. 

Vere  watched  it,  conjecturing  in  a  youthful 
fanciful  ignorant  way  all  kinds  of  things  about 
the  persons  who  seemed  so  happy  there. 
When  she  had  gazed  for  about  twenty  minutes, 
making  her  eyes  ache  and  getting  tired,  one  of 


MOTHS.  55 


them  especially  attracted  her  attention  by  the 
way  in  which  people  all  turned  after  him  as  he 
passed,  and  the  delight  that  his  greeting 
appeared  to  cause  those  with  whom  he 
lingered.  He  was  a  man  of  such  remarkable 
personal  beauty  that  this  alone  might  have 
been  reason'enouo^h  for  the  eao-er  welcome  of 
the  listless  ladies ;  but  there  was  even  a  greater 
charm  in  his  perfect  grace  of  movement  and 
vivacity  and  airy  ease  :  he  stayed  little  time 
with  any  one;  but  wherever  he  loitered  a 
moment  a23peared  to  be  the  centre  of  all 
smiles.  She  did  not  know  that  he  was  her 
admirer  of  the  noonday,  who  had  looked  at  her 
as  he  had  sauntered  along  in  his  bathing 
shroud  and  his  white  shoes ;  but  she  watched 
the  easy  graceful  attitudes  of  him  with  interest 
as  he  cast  himself  down  on  the  sand,  leaning 
on  his  elbow,  by  a  group  of  fair  women. 

'  Can  you  tell  me  who  that  gentleman  is  ?  ' 
she  asked  of  her  mother's  head-maid,  the 
inimitable  Adrienne. 

Adrienne  looked  and  smiled, 

^  Oh !  that  is  M.  de  Correze.' 

*  Correze ! '     Vere's     eyes     opened    iu    a 


66  MOTHS. 


blaze  of  eager  wonder,  and  the  colour  rose 
in  her  pale  cheeks.  '  Correze !  Are  you 
sure  ? ' 

'  But  yes :  I  am  quite  sure,'  laughed  Adri- 
enne.  '  Does  mademoiselle  feel  emotion  at  the 
sight  of  him?  She  is  only  like  all  others  of 
her  sex.     Ah  !  le  heau  Correze  / ' 

'  I  have  never  heard  him  sing,'  said  Vere, 
very  low,  as  if  she  spoke  of  some  religious 
thing ;  '  but  I  would  give  anything,  anything, 
to  do  so.  And  the  music  he  composes  him- 
self is  beautiful.  There  is  one  "  Messe  de 
Minuit '" 

'  Mademoiselle  will  hear  him  often  enough 
when  she  is  once  in  the  world,'  said  Adrienne, 
good-naturedly.  ^  Ah  !  when  she  shall  see  him 
in  "Faust"  that  will  be  an  era  in  her  life. 
But  it  is  not  his  singing  that  makes  the  great 
ladies  rave  of  him ;  it  is  his  charm.  Oh,  quel 
philtre  cf  amour  I ' 

And  Adrienne  quite  sighed  with  despair, 
and  then  laughed. 

Vere  coloured  a  little;  Keziah  did  not 
discourse  about  men  being  love-philtres. 


MOTHS,  67 


'  Measure  me  for  my  clotlies ;  I  am  tired,' 
she  said  with  a  childish  coldness  and  dignity, 
turning  away  from  the  window. 

'  I  am  entirely  at  mademoiselle's  service,'  said 
Adrienne  with  answering  dignity.  '  Whoever 
has  had  the  honour  to  clothe  mademoiselle  has 
been  strangely  neglectful  of  her  highest  in- 
terests.' 

'^  My  clothes  my  highest  interest  !  I  never 
think  about  them  ! ' 

'  That  is  very  sad.  They  are  really  barbaric. 
If  Mademoiselle  could  behold  herself ' 

*  They  are  useful,'  said  Yere  coldly;  'that 
is  all  that  is  necessary.' 

Adrienne  was  respectfully  silent,  but  she 
shuddered  as  if  she  had  heard  a  blasphemy. 
She  could  not  comprehend  how  the  young 
barbarian  could  have  been  brought  up  by  a 
duchess.  Adrienne  had  never  been  to  Bulmer, 
and  had  never  seen  Her  Grace  of  Mull,  with 
her  silver  spectacles,  her  leather  boots,  her 
tweed  clothes,  her  farm-ledgers,  her  studbooks, 
and  her  ever-open  Bible. 

'  Measure  me  quickly,'  said  Vere.     She  had 


58  MOTHS. 


lowered  the  green  jalousies,  and  would  not 
look  out  any  more.  Yet  she  felt  happier.  She 
missed  dark,  old,  misty  Bulmer  with  its  oak- 
woods  by  the  ocean ;  yet  this  little  gay  room, 
with  its  pretty  cretonne,  cream-coloured,  with 
pale  pink  roses,  its  gilded  mirrors,  its  rose 
china,  its  white  muslin,  was  certainly  brighter 
and  sunnier,  and  who  could  tell  but  what  her 
mother  would  grow  to  love  her  some  day  ? 

At  nine  o'clock  Lady  Dolly,  considering 
herself  a  martyr  to  mater nit}^,  ran  into  the 
little  room  where  Yere  was  at  tea  with  her 
governess ;  Lady  Dolly  was  arrayed  for  the 
evening  sauterie  at  the  Casino,  and  was  in  great 
haste  to  be  gone. 

'Have  you  everything  you  like,  darling?' 
she  asked,  pulling  on  her  pearl-hued  Crispins, 
'  Did  you  have  a  nice  little  dinner  ?  Yes  ? 
Quite  sure  ?  Has  Adrienne  been  to  you  ?  An 
excellent  creature ;  perfect  taste.  Dear  me, 
what  a  pity ! — you  might  have  come  and 
jumped  about  to-night  if  you  had  had  only 
something  to  wear.  Of  course  you  like 
dancing  ? ' 


MOTHS.  59 


'  I  dislike  it  very  much.' 

'  Dear  me  !  Ali  well !  you  won't  say  so 
after  a  cotillon  or  two.  You  shall  have  a 
cotillon  that  Zouroff  leads :  there  is  nobody 
better.  Good  night,  my  sweet  Vera.  Mind, 
I  shall  always  call  you  Vera.  It  sounds  so 
Eussian  and  nice,  and  is  much  prettier  than 
Yere.' 

'  I  do  not  think  so,  mother,  and  I  am  not 
Russian.' 

'  You  are  very  contradictory  and  opinion- 
ated; much  too  opinionated  for  a  girl.  It  is 
horrid  in  a  girl  to  have  opinions.  Fraulein, 
how  could  you  let  her  have  opinions  ?  Good 
night,  dear.  I  shall  hardly  see  you  to-morrow, 
if  at  all.  We  shall  be  cruising  about  in  Jack's 
yacht,  and  we  shall  start  very  early.  The 
Grand  Duchess  will  go  out  with  us.  She  is 
great  fun,  only  she  does  get  in  such  a  rage 
when  she  loses  at  play,  that  it  is  horrible  to 
see.  So  sorry  you  must  be  shut  up,  my  poor 
Yera ! ' 

'  May  I  not  go  out  just  for  a  walk  ?  ' 

'  Well,  I  don't  know — yes,  really,  I  think 


60  MOTHS. 


you  migkt;  if  it's  very  early  mind,  and  you 
keep  out  of  everybody's  siglit.  Pray  take  care 
not  a  soul  sees  you.' 

'  Is  not  this  better,  then  ?  '  murmured  the 
ofiender,  glancing  down  on  a  white  serge  frock, 
which  she  had  put  on  in  the  hope  that  it  might 
please.  It  was  a  simple  braided  dress  with  a 
plain  silver  belt,  and  was  really  unobjection- 
able. 

Lady  Dolly  scanned  the  garment  with  a 
critical  air  and  a  parti  pris.  Certainly  it  might 
have  done  for  the  morrow's  yachting,  but  then 
she  did  not  want  the  wearer  of  it  on  the  yacht. 
The  girl  would  have  to  be  everywhere  very 
soon,  of  course,  but  Lady  Dolly  put  off  the  evil 
day  as  long  as  she  could. 

'  It  is  the  cut/  she  said,  dropping  her  glass 
with  a  sigh.     '  It  can't  be  Morgan's  ?  ' 

'  Who  is  Morgan  ? '  asked  the  child,  so  be- 
nighted that  she  had  not  even  heard  of  the 
great  Worth  of  nautical  costume. 

'Morgan  is  the  only  creature  possible  for 
serge,'  sighed  Lady  Dolly.  '  You  don't  seem 
to   understand  darling.     Material   is   nothing. 


MOTHS.  61 


Make  is  everytliing.  Look  at  our  camelot 
and  percale  gowns  tliat  Worth  sends  us ;  and 
look  at  the  satins  and  velvets  of  a  hourgeoise 
from  Asnieres  or  a  wine-merchant's  wife  from 
Clapham  !  Oh,  my  dear  child  !  cut  your  gown 
out  of  your  dog's  towel  or  your  horses'  cloths 
if  you  like,  but  mind  Who  cuts  it :  that  is 
the  one  golden  rule !  But  good-night,  my 
sweetest.     Sleep  well.' 

Lady  Dolly  brushed  her  daughter's  cheek 
with  the  diamond  end  of  her  earring,  and  took 
herself  off  in  a  maze  of  pale  yellow  and  deep 
scarlet  as  mysteriously  and  perfectly  blended 
as  the  sunset  colours  of  an  Italian  night. 

'She  is  really  ver^^  prett}^,'  she  said  to 
her  counsellor  as  he  put  her  cloak  round 
her  and  pocketed  her  fan.  '  Eeally,  very 
handsome,  like  Barne  Jones's  things  and  all 
that,  don't  you  know.' 

'  A  long  sight  prettier  and  healthier  than 
any  of  'em,'  said  the  counsellor  lighting  his 
cigar ;  for  he  had  small  respect  for  the  High 
Art  of  his  period. 

They  went  forth  into  the  moonlit  night  to 


02 


MOTHS. 


the  Casino,  and  left  Yere  to  the  sleep  into 
which  she  sobbed  herself  like  a  child  as  she 
still  was,  soothed  at  last  by  the  sound  of  the 
incoming  tide  and  the  muttering  of  the  good 
Fraulein's  prayers. 


CHAPTEE   III. 

Verb  was  awoke  at  five  o'clock  by  tumul- 
tuous laughter,  gay  shrill  outcries,  and  a  sudden 
smell  of  cigar  smoke.  It  was  her  mother  return- 
ing home.  Doors  banged ;  then  all  grew  still. 
Yere  got  up,  looked  at  the  sea  and  remembered 
that  permission  to  go  out  had  been  given  her. 

In  another  hour  she  was  abroad  in  the  soft 
cool  sunshine  of  early  morning,  the  channel 
before  her,  and  behind  her  the  stout  form  of 
Northumbrian  Keziah. 

Trouvilain,  as  somebody  has  wittily  called 
it,  is  not  lovely.  Were  it  not  so  celebrated, 
undoubtedly  it  would  be  called  commonplace ; 
but,  in  the  very  first  light  of  morning,  every 


64  MOTHS, 


spot  on  earth,  except  a  manufacturing  city, 
has  some  loveliness,  and  Trouvilain  at  daybreak 
had  some  for  Vere.  There  were  yachts  with 
slender  trim  lines  beautiful  against  the  clear 
sky.  There  were  here  and  there  provision 
boats  pulling  out  with  sailors  in  dark  blue 
jerseys,  and  red  capped.  There  were  fleecy 
white  clouds,  and  there  were  cool  sands ;  cool 
now,  if  soon  they  would  be  no  better  than 
powder  and  dust.  Along  the  poor  planks  that 
are  the  treadmill  of  fashion,  Vere's  buoyant 
young  feet  bore  her  with  swiftness  and  pleasure 
till  she  reached  the  Corniche  des  Eoches 
Noires  and  got  out  into  the  charming  green 
country. 

She  glanced  at  the  water  and  longed  to 
run  into  the  shallows  and  wade  and  spread  her 
limbs  out,  and  float  and  swim,  beating  the 
sea  with  her  slender  arms  and  rosy  toes  as  she 
had  done  most  mornings  in  the  cold,  wind- 
swept, steel-grey  northern  tides  of  her  old 
home. 

But  her  bathing-costume  had  been  forbidden, 
had  even  been  carried  away  in  bitter  contempt 


MOTHS.  65 


by  one  of  the  French  maids,  and  never  would 
she  go  into  the  sea  in  this  public  place  in  one 
of  those  sleeveless,  legless,  circus-rider's  tunics  : 
no,  never,  she  said  to  herself;  and  her  resolves 
were  apt  to  be  very  resolute  ones.  Her  old 
guardian  at  Bulmer  Chase  had  always  said  to 
her:  'Never  say  "no"  rashly,  nor  "yes"  either; 
but  when  you  have  said  them,  stand  to  them  as 
a  soldier  to  his  guns.' 

She  did  not  at  all  know  her  way,  but  she  had 
thought  if  she  kept  along  by  the  water  she  would 
some  time  or  other  surely  get  out  of  the  sight 
of  all  those  gay  houses,  which,  shut  as  all  their 
persiennes  were,  and  invisible  as  were  all  their 
occupants,  yet  had  fashion  and  frivolity  so 
plainly  written  on  their  coquettish  awnings, 
their  balconies,  their  doorways,  their  red  gera- 
niums and  golden  calceolarias  blazing  before 
their  blinds.  At  five  o'clock  there  was  nobody 
to  trouble  her  certainly  ;  yet  within  sight  of  all 
those  windows  she  had  felt  as  if  she  were  still 
before  the  staring  eyes  and  eyeglasses  of  the 
cruel  crowd  of  that  terrible  yesterday. 

She  went  on  quickly  with  the  elastic  step 
VOL.  I.  -^ 


t)6  MOTM^, 


whicli  had  been  used  to  cover  so  easily  mile  after 
mile  of  the  heathered  moors  of  Bulmer,  and  the 
firm  yellow  sands  by  the  northern  ocean.  Before 
the  cloudless  sun  of  the  August  daybreak  was 
much  above  the  waters  of  the  east  with  the  smoke 
of  the  first  steamer  from  Havre  towering  grey 
and  dark  against  the  radiant  rose  of  the  sky, 
Vere  had  left  Trouville,  and  its  sleeping  beauties 
and  yawning  dandies  in  their  beds,  far  behind 
her,  and  was  nearly  a  third  of  the  way  to 
Villerville.  She  did  not  know  anything  at  all 
about  Lecamus/Zs,  Jules  David,  Challamel,  and 
Figaro  with  his  cabin,  who  had  made  Villerville 
famous,  but  she  went  onward  because  the  sea 
was  blue,  the  sand  was  yellow,  the  air  was  sweet 
and  wholesome,  and  the  solitude  was  complete. 

Her  spirits  rose;  light,  and  air,  and  liberty  of 
movement  were  necessary  to  her,  for,  in  the  old 
woods  and  on  the  rough  moors  of  Bulmer,  her 
grandmother  had  let  her  roam  as  she  chose,  on 
foot  or  on  her  pony.  It  had  been  a  stern  rule 
in  other  things,  but  as  regarded  air  and  exer- 
cise she  had  enjoyed  the  most  perfect  freedom. 

*  Are  you  tired,  Keziah  ? '  she  cried  at  last, 
noticing  that  the  patient  waiting-woman  lagged 


MOTHS.  67 


behind.  The  stout  Northumbrian  admitted 
that  she  was.  She  had  never  been  so  in  her 
life  before ;  but  that  frightful  sea  journey  from 
Southampton  had  left  her  stomach  ^  orkard.' 

Yere  was  touched  to  compunction. 

'  You  poor  creature  !  and  I  brought  you  out 
without  your  breakfast,  and  we  have  walked — 
oh !  ever  so  many  miles/  she  said  in  poignant 
self-reproach.  '  Keziah,  look  here,  there  is  a 
nice  smooth  stone.  Sit  down  on  it  and  rest, 
and  I  will  run  about.  Yes ;  do  not  make  any 
objection ;  sit  down.' 

Keziah,  who  adored  her  very  shadow  as  it 
fell  on  sward  or  sand,  demurred  faintly,  but  the 
flesh  was  weak,  and  the  good  woman  dropped 
down  on  the  stone  with  a  heavy  thud,  as  of  a 
sack  falling  to  earth,  and  sat  there  in  plaid 
shawl  and  homespun  gown,  with  her  hands  on 
her  knees,  the  homely  sober  figure  that  had 
seemed  to  Lady  Dolly  to  have  come  out  of  the 
ark  like  the  indigo  bathing-dress. 

Yere  left  her  on  that  madreporic  throne, 
and  strayed  onward  herself  along  by  the  edge 
of  the  sea, 

pa 


MOTHS. 


On  one  side  of  lier  was  a  dark  bastion  of 
rock,  above  that,  out  of  sight,  were  green  pas- 
tures and  golden  corn  fields  ;  on  the  other  was 
the  Channel,  placid,  sunny,  very  unlike  the  surg- 
ing turbulent  gigantic  waves  of  her  old  home. 

'  Can  you  ever  be  rough  ?  Can  you  ever 
look  like  salt  water?'  she  said  with  a  little 
contempt  to  it,  not  knowing  anything  about 
the  appalling  chopping  seas  and  formidable 
swell  of  the  Channel  which  the  boldest  mariners 
detest  more  than  all  the  grand  furies  of  Baltic  or 
Atlantic.  But  it  was  bright  blue  water  fretted 
with  little  curls  of  foam,  and  the  low  waves 
rolled  up  lazily,  and  lapped  the  sand  at  her 
feet;  and  she  felt  happy  and  playful,  as  was 
natural  to  her  age ;  and  that  she  was  quite 
alone  mattered  nothing  to  her,  for  she  had 
never  had  any  young  companions,  and  never 
played  except  with  the  dogs. 

She  wandered  about,  and  ran  here  and  there, 
and  found  some  sandpipers'  empty  nests,  and 
gathered  some  gorse  and  stuck  it  in  the  riband 
of  her  old  sailor's  hat,  and  was  gay  and  careless, 
and  sang  little  soft  low  songs  to  herself,  as  the 


I 


MOTHS.  69 


swallows  sing  when  they  sit  on  the  roof  in  mid- 
summer. She  had  taken  off  her  hat,  the  wind 
lifted  the  weighty  gold  of  her  straight  cut  hair, 
and  blew  the  old  brown  holland  skirt  away  from 
her  slender  ankles.  She  began  to  look  longingly 
at  the  water,  spreading  away  from  her  so  far 
and  so  far,  and  lying  in  delicious  little  cool 
shallows  amongst  the  stones.  She  could  not 
bathe,  but  she  thought  she  might  wade  and 
paddle.  She  took  off  her  shoes  and  stockings, 
and  waded  in.  The  rock  pools  were  rather 
deep,  and  the  water  rose  above  her  ankles  ; 
those  pretty  roses,  and  lilacs,  and  feathery 
hyacinths  of  the  sea  that  science  calls  actinice, 
uncurled  their  tufts  of  feathers,  and  spread  out 
their  starry  crowns,  and  lifted  their  tiny  bells 
around  her ;  broad  riband  weeds  floated,  crabs 
waddled,  little  live  shells  sailed  here  and  there, 
and  all  manner  oialgce,  brown  and  red,  were  curl- 
ing about  the  big  stones.  She  was  in  paradise. 
She  had  been  reared  on  the  edge  of  the  sea 
— the  cold  dark  stern  sea  of  the  north,  indeed, 
but  still  the  sea.  This  was  only  a  quiet  sunny 
nook    of    the    French  coast   of  the   Channel, 


70  MOTHS. 


but  it  was  charming  from  the  silence,  the  sun- 
shine, and  the  sweet  liberty  of  the  waters. 
She  thought  she  was  miles  away  from  everyone, 
and  therefore  was  duly  obeying  her  mother's 
sole  command.  There  was  not  even  a  sail  in 
sight :  quite  far  off  was  a  cloud  of  dark  boats, 
which  were  the  fishing  cobles  of  Honfleur; 
there  was  nothing  else  near,  nothing  but  a 
score  of  gulls,  spreading  their  white  wings,  and 
diving  to  catch  the  fish  as  they  rose. 

She  waded  on  and  on :  filling  an  old  creel 
with  seaweeds  and  seashells,  for  she  was  no 
more  than  a  child  in  a  great  many  things. 
The  anemones  she  would  not  take,  because  she 
had  no  means  of  keeping  them  in  comfort. 
She  contented  herself  with  standing  nearly 
knee  deep,  and  gazing  down  on  all  their  glories 
seen  through  the  glass  of  the  still,  sparkling 
water.  She  sprang  from  stone  to  stone,  from 
pool  to  pool,  forgetting  Keziah  seated  on  her 
rock.  Neither  did  she  see  a  pretty  little  dingey 
that  was  fastened  to  a  stake  amongst  the 
boulders. 

The  air  was  perfectly  still  5  there  was  only 


MOTHS.  71 


one  sound,  that  of  the  incoming  tide  running 
up  and  rij^pling  over  the  pebbles. 

Suddenly  a  voice  from  the  waves,  as  it 
seemed,  began  to  chaunt  parts  of  the  Eequiem 
of  Mozart.  It  was  a  voice  pure  as  a  lark's, 
rich  as  an  organ's  swell,  tender  as  love's  first 
embrace,  marvellously  melodious,  in  a  word, 
that  rarity  which  the  earth  is  seldom  blessed 
enough  to  hear  from  more  than  one  mortal 
throat  in  any  century  :  it  was  a  perfectly  beau- 
tiful tenor  voice. 

Vere  was  standing  in  the  water,  struck 
dumb  and  motionless;  her  eyes  dilated,  she 
scarcely  breathed,  every  fibre  of  her  being, 
everything  in  her,  body  and  soul,  seemed  to 
listen.  She  did  not  once  wonder  whence  it 
came ;  the  surpassing  beauty  and  melody  of  it 
held  her  too  entranced. 

Whether  it  were  in  the  air,  in  the  water,  in 
the  sky,  she  never  asked — one  would  have 
seemed  as  natural  to  her  as  the  other. 

From  the  Requiem  it  passed  with  scarce  a 
pause  to  the  impassioned  songs  of  Gounod's 
Bomeo.     Whatever   the   future    may    say   of 


72  MOTHS. 


Gounod,  this  it  will  never  be  able  to  deny,  that  he 
is  the  supreme  master  of  the  utterances  of  Love. 
The  passionate  music  rose  into  the  air,  bursting 
upon  the  silence  and  into  the  sunlight,  and 
seeming  to  pierce  the  very  heavens,  then  sink- 
ing low  and  sweet  and  soft  as  any  lover's  sigh 
of  joy  ;  breaking  off  at  last  abruptly  and  leaving 
nothing  but  the  murmur  of  the  sea. 

The  girl  drew  a  great  breathless  cry,  as  if 
something  beautiful  were  dead,  and  stood  quite 
still,  her  figure  mirrored  in  the  shallows. 

The  singer  came  round  from  the  projecting 
ledge  of  the  brown  cliffs,  uncovered  his  head 
and  bowed  low,  with  apology  for  unwitting 
intrusion  on  her  solitude. 

It  was  he  whom  Adrienne  had  called  le 
philtre  d^amour. 

Then  the  girl,  who  had  been  in  heaven, 
dropped  to  earth;  and  remembered  her  wet 
and  naked  feet,  and  glanced  down  on  them 
with  shame,  and  coloured  as  rosy-red  as  the 
sea-flowers  in  the  pool. 

She  threw  an  eager  glance  over  the  sands. 
Alas !  she  had  forgotten  her  shoes  and  stockings. 


MOTHS.  73 


and  the  place  where  they  had  been  knew  them 
no  more — the  waves  had  rippled  over  them  and 
were  tossing  them,  heaven  could  tell  how  near 
or  far  away. 

The  '  sad  leaden  humanity/  which  drags 
us  all  to  earth,  brought  her  from  the  trance  of 
ecstasy  to  the  very  humblest  prose  of  shame 
and  need. 

^I  have  lost  them,'  she  murmured;  and 
then  felt  herself  grow  from  rose  to  scarlet,  as 
the  singer  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  pool 
gazing  at  her  and  seeing  her  dilemma  with 
amusement. 

'  Your  shoes  and  stockings,  mademoiselle  ?  ' 

He  was  so  used  to  seeing  pretty  nude  feet 
at  Trouville  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
measure  the  awful  character  of  the  calamity  in 
the  eyes  of  Vere. 

'  Yes,  I  took  them  off;  and  I  never  dreamt 
that  anyone  w^as  here.' 

'  Perhaps  you  have  only  forgotten  where 
you  put  them.  Let  me  have  the  honour  to 
look  for  your  lost  treasures.' 

Yere   stood  in   her   shallow,   amongst   the 


74  MOTHS, 


riband  weed,  with,  her  liead  hung  down,  and 
the  colour  burning  in  her  face.  All  her  pride, 
of  which  she  had  much,  could  not  avail  her  liere. 
She  was  nervously  ashamed  and  unhappy. 

.  The  new-comer  searched  ardently  and  inde- 
fatigably,  leaving  no  nook  of  rock  or  little 
deposit  of  sea-water  unexamined.  He  waded 
in  many  places,  and  turned  over  the  weed  in 
all,  but  it  was  in  vain.  The  sea  was  many  an 
inch,  deeper  over  the  shore  than  when  she  had 
first  come,  and  her  shoes  and  hose  were  doubt- 
less drifting  loose  upon  the  waves :  there  was 
no  trace  of  them. 

Unconscious  of  this  tragedy  enacting, 
Keziah  sat  in  the  calm  distance,  a  grey  and 
brown  figure,  facing  the  horizon. 

Vere  stood  all  the  while  motionless;  the 
sweet  singing  seeming  still  to  throb  and  thrill 
through  the  air  around,  and  the  sunny  daylight 
seeming  to  go  round  her  in  an  amber  mist, 
through  which  she  only  saw  her  own  two 
naked  feet,  still  covered  in  some  sort  with  the 
water  and  the  weeds. 

'  They  are  gone,  mademoiselle ! '  said  the 


MOTHS,  75 


singer,  coming  to  her  with  eyes  that  he  made 
most  tender  and  persuasive.  They  were  beau- 
tiful eyes,  that  lent  themselves  with  willingness 
to  this  familiar  office. 

'  They  must  have  been  washed  away  by 
the  tide ;  it  is  coming  higher  each  moment. 
Indeed,  you  must  not  remain  where  you  are 
or  you  will  be  surrounded  very  soon,  and 
carried  off  yourself.  These  channel  tides  are 
treacherous  and  uncertain.' 

'  I  will  go  to  my  maid,'  murmured  Yere, 
with  a  fawn-like  spring  from  her  stones  to 
others,  forgetting  in  her  shame  to  even  thank 
him  for  his  services. 

'  To  that  admirable  person  enthroned  yon- 
der ? '  said  the  singer  of  the  songs.  *  But, 
mademoiselle,  there  is  the  deep  sea  between 
you  and  her  already.     Look  ! ' 

Indeed,  so  rapidly  had  the  tide  run  in,  and 
the  waters  swelled  up,  that  she  was  divided 
from  her  attendant  by  a  broad  sheet  of  blue 
shallows.  Keziah,  tired  and  sleepy  from  her 
journeyings,  was  nodding  unconsciously  on  her 
throne  of  rocks. 


76  MOTHS. 


'  And  she  will  be  drowned  ! '  said  Vere  with 
a  piercing  cry,  and  she  began  wading  knee- 
deep  into  the  sea  before  her  companion  knew 
what  she  was  about.  In  a  moment  he  had 
caught  her  and  lifted  her  back  on  to  the  firm 
sand. 

'Your  good  woman  is  in  no  danger,  but 
you  cannot  reach  her  so,  and  you  will  only 
risk  your  own  life,  mademoiselle,'  he  said 
gently.  '  There  is  nothing  to  be  alarmed  about. 
Shout  to  your  attendant  to  take  the  path  up 
the  cliffs — perhaps  she  would  not  understand 
me — and  we  will  take  this  road ;  so  we  shall 
meet  on  the  top  of  this  table-land  that  is  now 
above  our  heads.  That  is  all.  Shout  loudly 
to  her.' 

Vere  was  trembling,  but  she  obeyed — she 
had  learned  the  too  oft-forgotten  art  of  obedience 
at  Bulmer  Chase,  and  she  shouted  loudly  till  she 
aroused  Keziah,  who  awoke,  rubbing  her  eyes, 
and  dreaming,  no  doubt,  that  she  was  in  the 
servants'  hall  at  Bulmer. 

When  she  understood  what  had  happened 
and   what   she  was  bidden  to  do,   the  stout 


MOTHS.  77 


north  countrywoman  tucked  up  her  petticoats, 
and  began  to  climb  up  the  steep  path  with  a 
will,  once  assured  that  her  young  mistress 
was  out  of  all  danger.  The  face  of  the  cliff 
soon  hid  her  figure  from  sight,  and  Vere  felfc 
her  heart  sink  strangely. 

But  she  had  no  time  to  reflect,  for  the 
stranger  propelled  her  gently  towards  the  worn 
ridge  in  the  rocks  near  them,  a  path  which  the 
fisher-people  had  made  incoming  up  and  down. 

'Let  us  mount  quickly,  mademoiselle.  I 
did  not  notice  myself  that  the  tide  was  so  high. 
Alas  !  I  fear  the  rocks  will  hurt  your  feet. 
When  we  reach  the  first  ledg^e  you  must  wind 
some  grass  round  them.     Come  !  ' 

Vere  began  to  climb.  The  stones,  and  the 
sand,  and  the  rough  dry  weeds  cut  her  feet 
terribly,  but  these  did  not  hurt  her  so  much  as 
the  idea  that  he  saw  her  without  shoes  and 
stockings.  Reaching  a  ledge  of  stone  he  bade 
her  sit  down,  and  tore  up  some  broad  grasses 
and  brought  them  to  her, 

'  Bind  these  about  your  feet,'  he  said  kindly, 
and  turned  his  back  to  her.     *  Ah !  why  will 


78  MOTHS. 


you  mind  so  much?  Madame,  your  lovely 
mother,  dances  about  so  for  two  or  three  hours 
in  the  water-carnival  every  noonday ! ' 

'Do  jou  know  my  mother?^  said  Vera, 
lifting  her  face,  very  hot  and  troubled  from 
winding  the  grass  about  her  soles  and  insteps. 

'  I  have  had  that  honour  for  many  years  in 
Paris.  You  will  have  heard  of  me,  perhaps. 
I  am  a  singer.' 

Yere,  for  the  first  time,  looked  in  his  face, 
and  saw  that  it  was  the  face  whose  beauty  had 
attracted  her  in  the  sunlight  on  the  shore, 
and  whom  Adrienne  had  called  the  philtre 
d'amour. 

^  It  was  you  who  were  singing,  then  ?  '  she 
said  timidly,  and  thinking  how  beautiful  and 
how  wonderful  he  was,  this  great  artist,  who 
stood  before  her  clothed  in  white,  with  the  sun 
shining  in  his  luminous  eyes. 

'Yes.  I  came  here  to  bathe  and  to  swim, 
and  then  run  over  some  of  the  scores  of  a  new 
opera,  that  we  shall  have  in  Paris  this  winter, 
of  Ambroise  Thomas's.  One  cannot  study 
in  peace  for  ten  minutes  in  Trouville,      Yoi:t 


MOTHS.  79 


love  music,  mademoiselle  ?  Oh  !  you  need  not 
speak :  one  always  knows.' 

'I  never  v/ent  to  any  opera,'  said  Vere 
Tinder  her  breath,  resuming  her  climb  up  the 
rock. 

^  Never  !  May  I  sing  to  you  then  in  the 
first  opera  you  hear  !  Take  care ;  this  path  is 
steep.  Do  not  look  back ;  and  catch  at  the 
piles  where  the  guindeaux  hang.  You  need  fear 
nothing.     I  am  behind  you.' 

Vere  climbed  on  in  silence  ;  the  thick  bands 
of  grass  protected  her  feet  in  a  measure,  yet 
it  was  hard  and  rough  work.  Young  and 
strong  though  she  was,  she  was  glad  when 
they  reached  the  short  grass  on  the  head  of 
the  cliffs  and  sank  down  on  it,  field-fares  and 
several  birds  of  all  kinds  wheeling  around  her 
in  the  grey  clear  air. 

'  You  are  not  faint  ?  '  he  asked  anxiously. 

'  Oh  no  !     Only  tired.' 

'  Will  you  rest  here  ten  minutes,  and  I  will 
come  back  to  you  ?  ' 

'  If  you  wish  me.' 

He  smiled  at  the  childish  docility  of  the 


80  MOTHS. 


answer  and  left  her,  whilst  she  leaned  down  on 
the  turf  of  the  table-land,  and  gazed  at  the  sea 
far  down  below,  and  at  the  horizon  where 
many  a  white  sail  shone,  and  here  and  there 
streamed  the  dark  trail  of  a  steamer's  smoke. 
She  had  forgotten  Keziah  for  the  moment ; 
she  was  only  hearing  in  memory  those  wonderful 
tones,  clear  as  a  lark's  song,  rich  as  an  organ's 
swell,  ringing  over  the  waters  in  the  silence. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  he  was  back  at 
her  side  with  a  pair  of  little  new  wooden  shoes 
in  his  hand. 

'  I  thought  these  might  save  you  from  the 
stones  and  dust  a  little.  Mademoiselle  Herbert,' 
he  said,  '  and  it  is  impossible  to  procure  any 
better  kind  in  this  village.    Will  you  try  them  ?  ' 

She  was  grateful ;  the  little  shoes  were  *  a 
child's  size  and  fitted  as  if  they  had  been  the 
glass  slipper  of  Cinderella. 

'You  are  very  good,'  she  said  timidly. 
'  And  how  can  you  tell  what  my  name  is  ? ' 

'  I  witnessed  your  arrival  yesterday.  Besides, 
who  has  not  heard  of  lovely  Madame  Dolly's 
daughter  ? ' 


MOTHS.  81 


Vere  was  silent.  She  vaguely  wondered 
why  her  mother  was  called  Dolly  by  all  men 
whatever. 

Suddenly,  with  a  pang  of  conscience,  she 
remembered  Keziah,  and  sprang  up  on  her 
sabots.  Correze  divined  her  impulse  and  her 
thought. 

'  Your  good  woman  is  quite  safe,'  he  said  ; 
'  the  peasants  have  seen  her  on  the  top  of  the 
rocks,  but  she  seems  to  have  taken  a  wrong 
path,  and  so  it  may  be  half-an-hour  before  we 
overtake  her.  But  do  not  be  afraid  or  anxious. 
I  will  see  you  safely  homeward.' 
Vere  grew  very  pale. 

'But  mother  made  me  promise  to  see  no  one.' 
'Why?' 

'  Because  my  dress  is  all  wrong.     And  poor 
Keziah  !  — oh,  how  frightened  she  will  be  ! ' 

'Not  very.  We  shall  soon  overtake  her. 
Or,  better  still,  I  will  send  a  lad  after  her  while 
we  rest  a  little.  Come  and  see  my  village,  if 
you  can  walk  in  your  scibots.  It  is  a  village  that 
I  have  discovered,  so  I  have  the  rights  of  Selkirk. 
Come,  if  you  are  not  too  tired.  Brava  ! ' 
VOL.   I.  G 


82  MOTHS. 


He  cried  'brava ! '  because  she  walked  so  well 
in  her  wooden  shoes;  and  he  saw  that  to  please 
him  she  was  overcoming  the  ti  midity  which  the 
solitude  of  her  situation  awoke  in  her. 

'  How  can  she  be  the  daughter  of  that  little 
impudent /^e  mouche  V  he  thought. 

Yere  was  shy  but  brave.  Lady  Dolly  and 
her  sisterhood  were  audacious  but  cowardly. 

He  led  her  across  the  broad  hard  head  of  the 
cliffs,  mottled  black  and  gray  where  the  rock 
broke  through  the  grass,  and  thence  across  a 
sort  of  rambling  down  with  low  furze-bushes 
growing  on  it,  further  by  a  cart-track,  where 
cart-wheels  had  cut  deep  into  the  soil,  to  a  little 
cluster  of  houses,  lying  sheltered  from  the  sea 
winds  by  the  broad  bluff  of  the  cliffs  which  rose 
above  them,  and  gathered  under  the  shelter  of 
apple  and  cherry  trees,  with  one  great  walnut 
growing  in  the  midst. 

Ifc  was  a  poor  little  village  enough,  with  a 
smell  of  tar  from  the  fishing-nets  and  sails 
spread  out  to  dry,  and  shingle  roofs  held  down 
with  stones,  and  little  dusky  close-shut  pigeon- 
holes for  windows :  but,  in  the  memory  of  Yere 


MOTHS.  83 


for  ever  afterwards,  that  little  village  seemed 
even  as  Arcadia. 

He  had  two  wooden  chairs  brought  out,  and 
a  wooden  table,  and  set  them  under  the  cherry- 
trees,  all  reddened  then  with  fruit.  He  had  a 
wooden  bowl  of  milk,  and  honey,  and  brown 
bread,  and  cherries,  brought  out  too.  There 
were  lavender  and  a  few  homely  stocks  and 
wallflowers  growing  in  the  poor  soil  about  the 
fences  of  the  houses ;  bees  hummed  and  swallows 
cleft  the  air. 

'  You  are  thirsty  and  hungry,  I  am  sure,'  he 
said,  and  Yere,  who  had  not  learned  to  be 
ashamed  of  such  things,  said  with  a  smile, '  I  am.' 

He  had  reassured  her  as  to  Keziah,  after 
whom  he  had  sent  a  fisher-boy.  That  the 
fisher-boy  would  ever  find  Keziah  he  did  not  in 
the  least  see  any  reason  to  believe ;  but  he  did 
not  see  any  reason  either  why  he  should  tell 
Yere  so,  to  make  her  anxious  and  disturbed. 
The  girl  had  such  a  lovely  face,  and  her  inno- 
cence and  seriousness  pleased  him. 

'Are  you  sure  the  boy  will  soon  find  my 
woman  ?  '  she  asked  him  wistfully. 
g2 


84  MOTHS. 


'Quite  sure/  he  answered.  'He  saw  her 
himself  a  little  while  ago  on  the  top  of  the  cliff 
yonder.  Do  not  be  dismayed  about  that,  and 
find  some  appetite  for  this  homely  fare.  I  have 
made  requisitions  like  any  Prussian,  but  the 
result  is  poorer  than  T  hoped  it  might  be.  Try 
some  cherries.' 

The  cherries  were  fine  biggaroons,  scarlet 
and  white,  and  Vere  was  still  a  child.  She 
drank  her  milk  and  ate  them  with  keen  relish. 
The  morning  was  growing  warm  as  the  sun 
clomb  higher  in  the  heavens.  She  took  off  her 
hat,  and  the  wind  lifted  the  thick  hair  falling 
over  her  forehead;  exertion  and  excitement  had 
brought  a  flush  of  colour  in  her  cheeks;  the 
light  and  shade  of  the  walnut  leaves  was  above 
her  head ;  little  curly-headed  children  peeped 
behind  the  furze  fence  and  the  sweetbriar 
hedge ;  white-capped  old  women  looked  on, 
nodding  and  smiling ;  the  sea  was  out  of  sight, 
but  the  sound  and  the  scent  of  it  came  there. 

'  It  is  an  idyl,'  thought  her  companion ; 
idyls  were  not  in  his  life,  which  was  one  of 
mending    triumphs,    passions,   and    festivals, 


MOTHS.  85 


dizzily  mingled  in  a  world  which  adored  him. 
Meanwhile  it  pleased  him,  if  only  by  force  of 
novelty,  and  no  incident  on  earth  could  ever 
have  found  him  unready. 

'  You  love  music  ?  '  he  cried  to  her.  ^  Ah  ! 
now  if  we  were  but  in  Italy  in  that  dark  little 
cottage  there  would  sure  to  be  a  chitarra,  and 
1  would  give  you  a  serenade  to  your  cherries ; 
perhaps  without  one — why  not,  if  you  like  it  ? 
But  first.  Mademoiselle  Herbert,  I  ought  to  tell 
you  who  I  am.' 

'  Oh  !  I  know,'  said  Yere,  and  lifted  her  soft 
eyes  to  him  with  a  cherry  against  her  lips. 

'Indeed?' 

'Yes,  I  saw  you  on  the  plage  yesterday, 
and  Adrienne  told  me.     You  are  Correze.' 

She  said  the  name  tenderly  and  reverently, 
for  his  fame  had  reached  her  in  her  childhood, 
and  she  had  often  thought  to  herself,  '  If  only 
I  could  hear  Correze  once  ! ' 

He  smiled  caressingly. 

'  I  am  glad  that  you  cared  to  ask.  Yes,  I 
am  Correze,  that  is  certain ;  and  perhaps 
Correze  would  be  the  name  of  a  greater  artist 


86  MOTHS. 


if  the  world  had  not  spoilt  him— yonr  mamma's 
world,  mademoiselle.  Well,  my  life  is  very 
happy,  and  very  gay  and  glad,  and  after  all 
the  fame  of  the  singer  can  never  be  but  a 
breath,  a  sound  through  a  reed.  When  our 
lips  are  once  shut  there  is  on  us  for  ever  eternal 
silence.  Who  can  remember  a  summer-breeze 
when  it  has  passed  by,  or  tell  in  any  aftertime 
how  a  laugh  or  a  sigh  sounded  ?  ' 

His  face  grew  for  the  moment  sad  and  over- 
cast— that  beautiful  face  which  had  fascinated 
the  eyes  of  the  girl  as  it  had  done  the  gaze 
of  multitudes  in  burning  nights  of  enthusiasm 
from  Neva  to  Tagus,  from  Danube  to  Seine. 

Vere  looked  at  him  and  did  not  speak.  The 
gaze  of  Correze  had  a  magic  for  all  women,  and 
she  vaguely  felt  that  magic  as  she  met  those 
eyes  that  were  the  eyes  of  Eomeo  and  of  Faust. 

'  What  a  lovely  life  it  must  be,  your  life,' 
she  said  timidly.  '  It  must  be  like  a  perpetual 
poem,  I  think.' 

Correze  smiled. 

'  An  artist's  life  is  far  off  what  you  fancy  it, 
I  fear ;  but  yet  at  the  least  it  is  full  of  colour 


MOTHS.  87 


and  of  cliange.  I  am  in  the  snows  of  Russia 
one  day,  in  the  suns  of  Madrid  another.  I 
know  the  life  of  the  palaces,  I  have  known  the 
life  of  the  poor.  When  I  forget  the  latter  may 
heaven  forget  me !  Some  day  when  we  are 
older  friends,  Mademoiselle  Herbert,  I  will  tell 
you  my  story.' 

'  Tell  me  now,'  said  Yere  softly,  with  her 
gaze  beginning  to  grow  intent  and  eager  under 
the  halo  of  her  hair,  and  letting  her  cherries 
lie  unheeded  on  her  lap. 

Correze  laughed. 

'  Oh,  you  will  be  disappointed.  I  have  not 
much  of  one,  and  it  is  no  secret.  I  am  Eaphael 
de  Correze ;  I  am  the  Marquis  de  Correze  if  it 
were  of  any  use  to  be  so ;  but  I  prefer  to  be 
Correze  the  singer.  It  is  much  simpler,  and 
yet  much  more  uncommon.  There  are  so  many 
marquises,  so  few  tenors.  My  race  was  great 
amongst  the  old  noblesse  de  Savoie,  but  it  was 
beggared  in  the  Terror,  and  their  lands  were 
confiscated  and  most  of  their  lives  were  taken. 
I  was  born  in  a  cabin  ;  my  grandfather  had  been 
born  in  a  castle ;  it  did  not  matter.     He  was  a 


88  MOTHS. 


philosopher  and  a  scholar,  and  he  had  taken  to 
the  mountains  and  loved  them.  My  father 
married  a  peasant  girl,  and  lived  as  simply  as  a 
shepherd.  My  mother  died  early.  I  ran  about 
barefoot  and  saw  to  the  goats.  We  were  on  the 
Yalais  side  of  the  Pennine  Alps.  I  used  to 
drive  the  goats  up  higher,  higher,  higher,  as  the 
summer  drew  on,  and  the  grass  was  eaten  down. 
In  the  winter  an  old  priest,  who  lived  with  us, 
and  my  father,  when  he  had  leisure,  taught 
me.  We  were  very  poor  and  often  hungry,  but 
they  were  happy  times.  I  think  of  them  when 
I  go  across  the  Alps  wrapped  up  in  my  black 
sables  that  the  Empress  of  Eussia  has  given  me. 
I  think  I  was  warmer  in  the  old  days  with  the 
snow  ten  feet  deep  all  around !  Can  you  under- 
stand that  snow  may  be  warmer  than  sables  ? 
Yes?  Well,  there  is  little  to  tell.  One  day,  when 
it  was  summer,  and  travellers  were  coming  up 
into  the  Pennine  valleys,  some  one  heard  me 
sing,  and  said  my  voice  was  a  fortune.  I  was 
singing  to  myself  and  the  goats  among  the 
gentian,  the  beautiful  blue  gentian — you  know 
it  ?    No,  you  do  not  know  it,  unless  you  have 


MOTHS. 


roamed  the  Alps  in  May.  Other  persons  came 
after  him  and  said  the  same  thing,  and  wanted 
me  to  go  with  them;  but  I  would 'not  leave  my 
father.  Who  could  stack  wood  for  him, 
and  cut  j)3;ths  through  the  snow,  and  rake 
up  the  chestnuts  and  store  them?  I  did  all 
that.  I  would  not  go.  When  I  was  fifteen  he 
died.  '  Do  not  forget  you  are  the  last  Marquis 
de  Correze,'  he  said  to  me  with  his  last 
breath.  He  had  never  forgotten  it,  and  he 
had  lived  and  died  in  the  shadow  of  the  Alps 
an  honest  man  and  a  gentleman  in  his 
mountain  hut.  I  passed  the  winter  in  great 
pain  and  trouble :  it  had  been  in  the  autumn 
that  he  had  died.  I  could  not  resolve  whether 
it  would  displease  him  in  his  grave  under  the 
snow  that  a  Correze  should  be  a  singer ;  yet  a 
singer  I  longed  to  be.  With  the  spring  I  said 
to  myself  that  after  all  one  could  be  as  loyal  a 
gentleman  as  a  singer  as  a  soldier ;  why  not  ? 
I  rose  up  and  walked  down  to  the  bottom  of  our 
ravine,  where  twice  a  week  the  diligences  for 
Paris  run ;  I  found  one  going  on  the  road ;  I 
went  by  it,  and  went  on  and  on  until  I  entered 


90  MOTHS. 


Paris.  All !  that  entry  into  Paris  of  the  boy 
with  an  artist's  ambition  and  a  child's  faith  in 
destiny !  Why  have  they  never  written  a 
poem  on  it  ?  Once  in  Paris  my  path  was  easy ; 
my  voice  made  me  friends.  I  went  to  Italy,  I 
studied,  I  was  heard,  I  returned  to  my  dear 
Paris  and  triumphed.  Well,  I  have  been 
happy  ever  since.  It  is  very  much  to  say; 
and  yet  sometimes  I  long  for  the  old  winter 
nights,  roasting  the  chestnuts,  with  the  wall  of 
snow  outside ! ' 

Yere  had  listened  with  eloquent  dim  eyes, 
and  a  fast  beating  heart;  her  cherries  lying 
still  uneaten  on  her  lap.  She  gave  a  little 
quiet  sigh  as  his  voice  ceased. 

'  You  feel  so  about  it  because  your  father 
is  dead,'  she  said  very  low,  under  her 
breath.  'If  he  were  here  to  know  all  your 
triumphs ' 

Correze  bent  down  and  touched  her  hand, 
as  it  hung  forward  over  her  knee,  with  his  lips. 
It  was  a  mere  habitual  action  of  graceful  cour- 
tesy with  him,  but  it  gave  the  child  a  strange 
thrill.     She  had  never  seen  those  tender  easy 


MOTHS.  91 


ceremonies  of  the  South.  He  saw  that  he  had 
troubled  her,  and  was  sorry. 

'  Eat  your  cherries,  Mademoiselle  Herbert, 
and  I  will  sing  you  a  song,'  he  said  gaily, 
dropping  a  cherry  into  his  own  mouth,  and  he 
began  to  hum  in  his  perfect  melodious  notes 
odds  and  ends  of  some  of  the  greatest  music  of 
the  world. 

Then  he  sang  with  a  voice  only  raised  to 
one  tenth  of  its  power,  the  last  song  of  Fer- 
nando, his  lips  scarcely  parting  as  he  sang,  and 
his  eyes  looking  away  to  the  yellow  gorse  and 
the  sheep-cropped  grass,  and  the  drifting 
clouds ;  giving  to  the  air  and  sea  what  he  often 
refused  to  princes. 

For  the  great  tenor  Correze  was  a  prince 
himself  in  his  caprices. 

The  i)erfect  melody  that  held  multitudes 
enthralled,  and  moved  whole  cities  to  ecstasies, 
that  dissolved  queens  in  tears  and  made  women 
weep  like  little  children,  was  heard  on  the  still 
sunny  silence  of  the  cliffs  with  only  a  few  babies 
tumbling  in  the  sandy  grass,  and  an  old  woman 
or  two  sitting  spinning  at  her  door.     Down  in 


93  MOTHS. 


gaj  Trouville  all  his  worshippers  could  not  woo 
from  hi  in  a  note ;  the  entreaties  that  were 
commands  found  him  obdurate  and  left  him 
indifferent ;  and  he  sang  here  to  the  lark  that 
was  singing  over  his  head,  because  a  girl  of 
sixteen  had  lost  her  shoes  and  stockings,  and 
he  wished  to  console  her. 

When  once  the  voice  left  his  lips  he  sang 
on,  much  as  the  lark  did,  softly  and  almost 
unconsciously ;  the  old  familiar  melodies  fol- 
lowing one  another  unbidden,  as  in  his  child- 
hood he  had  used  to  sing  to  the  goats  with  the 
flush  of  the  Alpine  roses  about  his  feet,  and 
the  snow  above  his  head. 

The  lark  dropped,  as  though  owning  itself 
vanquished,  into  the  hollow,  where  its  consort's 
lowly  nest  was  made.  Correze  ceased  suddenly 
to  sing,  and  looked  at  his  companion.  Yere 
was  crying. 

'  Ah !  my  beautiful  angel ! '  said  an  old 
peasant  woman  to  him,  standing  close  against 
the  furze  fence  to  listen ;  '  do  you  come  out  of 
paradise  to  tell  us  we  are  not  quite  forgot 
there  ? ' 


MOTHS.  93 


Yere  said  nothing  ;  she  only  turned  on  him 
her  great  soft  eyes  whilst  the  tears  were  falling 
unchecked  down  her  cheeks. 

'  Mademoiselle/  said  Correze,  '  I  have  had 
flattery  in  my  time,  and  more  than  has  been 
good  for  me ;  but  who  ever  gave  me  such  sweet 
flattery  as  yours  ?  ' 

'  Flattery  ! '  murmured  Vere.  '  I  did  not 
mean — oh !  how  can  you  say  that  ?  The  woman 
is  right — it  is  as  if  it  came  from  the  angels  !  ' 

'By  a  servant  of  angels  most  unworthy, 
then,'  said  Correze,  with  a  smile  and  a  sigh. 
'As  for  the  woman — good  mother,  here  is  a 
gold  piece  that  carries  Paradise  in  it ;  or,  at 
least  men  think  so.  But  I  am  afraid,  myself, 
♦that  by  the  time  we  have  found  the  gold  pieces 
we  have  most  of  us  forgotten  the  way  to  Para- 
dise.' 

Yere  was  silent.  She  was  still  very  pale ; 
the  tears  stood  on  her  lashes  as  the  rain  stands 
on  the  fringes  of  the  dark  passion-flower  after 
a  storm. 

'Tell  me  your  name,  my  angel,'  said  the 
old  woman,  with  her  hand  on  the  coin. 


94  MOTHS, 


^  Kaphael.' 

'  I  will  pray  to  St.  Raphael  for  you ;  if 
indeed  you  be  not  lie  ? ' 

'Nay;  I  am  not  he.  Pray  always,  good 
soul;  it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  some  one  prays 
for  us.     Those  cries  cannot  all  be  lost.' 

'Have  you  none  to  love  you?  '  said  the  old 
woman.     '  That  is  odd,  for  you  are  beautiful.' 

'  I  have  many  to  love  me — in  a  way.  But 
none  to  pray  that  I  know  of — that  is  another 
affair.  Mother,  did  you  see  that  lark  that  sang 
on  against  me,  and  dropped  to  its  nest  at  last? ' 

'  I  saw  it.' 

'  Then  have  a  heed  that  the  boys  do  not 
stone,  and  the  trappers  net  it.' 

'  I  will.     What  is  your  fancy  ?  ' 

'  It  is  a  little  brother.' 

The  peasant  woman  did  not  understand,  but 
she  nodded  three  times.  'The  lark  shall  be 
safe  as  a  king  in  his  court.  The  jolot  he  is  in 
is  mine.  When  you  want  a  thing  say  to  women 
you  wish  it — you  do  not  want  to  say  anything 
else.' 

Correze  laughed,  ajid  pulled  down  a  rose  from 


MOTHS.  95 


behind   the    sweetbriar.     He    held   it    out  to 
Yere. 

'  If  there  were  only  a  single  rose  here  and 
there  upon  earth,  men  and  women  would  pass 
their  years  on  their  knees  before  its  beauty.  I 
wonder  sometimes  if  human  ingratitude  for 
beauty  ever  hurts  God?  One  might  fancy  even 
Deity  wounded  by  neglected  gifts.  What  do 
you  say  ?  ' 

He  plucked  a  little  lavender  and  some  sea- 
pinks,  and  wound  them  together  with  the  rose. 

'  When  the  fools  throw  me  flowers  they  hurt 
me;  it  is  barbarous,'  he  said.  'To  throw  laurel 
has  more  sense ;  there  is  a  bitter  smell  in  it, 
and  it  carries  a  sound  allegory  ;  but  flowers  ! — 
flowers  thrown  in  the  dust,  and  dying  in  the 
gas-glare !  The  little  live  birds  thrown  at 
Carnival  are  only  one  shade  worse.  Ah !  here 
is  the  lad  that  I  sent  to  find  your  waiting- 
woman.' 

The  rose,  the  song,  the  magical  charm 
seemed  all  dissolved  before  Vere  as  by  the 
speaking  of  some  disenchanter's  spell :  the  hard- 
ness and  fearfulness  of  prosaic  fact  faced  her. 


96  MOTliS. 


The  fisher-lad  explained  that  he  had  been 
miles  in  search  of  the  good  woman,  but  he  had 
not  found  her.  Men  he  had  lately  met  had 
told  him  they  had  seen  such  a  figure  running 
hard  back  to  the  town. 

'What  shall  I  do?'  she  murmured  aloud. 
'  I  have  been  forgetting  all  the  trouble  that  I 
have  been  to  you.  Show  me  the  way  back — 
only  that — I  can  find  it — I  can  go  alone. 
Indeed  I  can,  M.  de  Correze.' 

'  Indeed,  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,' 
said  Corr^ze.  '  Your  woman  is  quite  safe,  you 
see,  so  you  need  fear  nothing  for  her.  No 
doubt  she  thinks  you  have  gone  that  way  home. 
Mademoiselle  Herbert,  if  you  will  listen  to  me, 
you  will  not  distress  yourself,  but  let  me  take 
you  in  my  little  boat  that  is  down  there  to 
Trouville.  It  is  impossible  that  you  should  walk 
in  those  wooden  shoes,  and  carriage  or  even 
cart  there  is  none  here.  Come,  it  is  half-past 
nine  only  now.  The  sun  is  still  temperate ;  the 
sea  is  smooth.  Come,  I  will  row  you  home  in 
an  hour.' 

'  But  I  have  been  such  a  trouble  to  you.' 


MOTHS.  97 


'  May  I  never  have  worse  burdens ! ' 
'  And  my  mother  will  be  so  angry.' 
*  Will  she  ?  Madame  Dolly,  a  mother  and 
angry !  I  cannot  picture  it ;  and  I  thought  I 
knew  her  in  every  phase.  My  child,  do  not  be 
so  troubled  about  nothing.  We  will  drift  back 
slowly  and  pleasantly,  and  you  shall  be  in  your 
mother's  house  before  noon  strikes.  And 
everyone  knows  me.  That  is  one  of  the  uses  of 
notoriety ;  it  has  many  drawbacks,  so  it  need 
have  some  compensations.  Come.  I  rowed 
myself  out  here.  I  studied  music  a  year  in 
Yenice  when  I  was  a  lad,  and  learned  rowing 
on  the  Lido  from  the  fruit-girls.     Come.' 

She  did  not  resist  much  more  ;  she  thought 
that  he  must  know  best.  With  the  grey 
lavender  and  the  rose  at  her  throat,  she  went 
away  from  under  the  cherry  trees ;  the  old 
woman  in  her  blue  gown  gave  them  her  bless- 
ing; the  lark  left  his  nest  and  began  to  sing 
again ;  the  sunny  hour  was  over,  the  black 
steep  head  of  the  cliffs  was  soon  between  them 
and  the  little  hamlet. 

They  walked  down  by  an  easier  way  to  the 

VOL.    I.  H 


98  MOTHS. 


shore.  The  little  boat  was  rockhig  on  a  high 
tide. 

*  Can  yon  steer  ? '  said  Correze. 

'  Oh,  yes/  said  Yere,  who  was  learned  in 
all  sailing  and  boating,  after  a  childhood  passed 
by  the  rough  grey  waters  of  an  iron  coast. 

He  took  the  oars,  and  she  the  ropes.  The 
sea  was  smooth,  and  there  was  no  wind,  not 
even  a  ruffle  in  the  air ;  the  boat  glided  slowly 
and  evenly  along. 

He  talked  and  laughed,  he  amused  and  be- 
guiled her  ;  he  told  her  stories ;  now  and  then 
he  sang  low  sweet  snatches  of  Venetian  boat- 
songs  and  rowing  chaunts  of  the  Lombard 
lakes  and  of  the  Riviera  gnlfs  and  bays  ;  the 
sun  was  still  cool ;  the  sea  looked  blue  to  her 
eyes  which  had  never  beheld  the  Mediterranean. 
There  were  many  craft  in  sight,  pleasure  and 
fishing  vessels,  and  farther  away  large  ships ; 
but  nothing  drew  near  them  save  one  old  coble 
going  in  to  Etretat  from  the  night's  dredging. 
It  was  an  enchanted  voyage  to  Yere,  as  the 
hamlet  on  the  clitFs,  and  the  homely  lavender, 
and  the  cabbage  rose,  had  been  all  enchanted 


MOTHS,  99 


things.  She  was  in  a  dream.  She  wondered 
if  she  were  really  living.  As  she  had  never 
read  but  great  and  noble  books,  she  thought 
vaguely  of  the  Faerie  Queen  and  of  the  Fata 
Morgana.  And  through  the  sunlight  against 
the  sea,  she  saw  as  in  a  golden  halo  the  beauti- 
ful brillant  dreamy  face  of  Correze. 

At  last  the  voyage  was  done. 

The  little  boat  grated  against  the  sands  of 
Trouville,  and  against  the  side  of  a  yacht's  gig 
waiting  there  with  smart  sailors  in  white  jerseys 
and  scarlet  caps,  with  '  Ei^hemeris '  in  large 
blue  letters  woven  on  their  shirts. 

It  was  still  early,  earlier  than  it  was  usual 
for  the  fashionable  idleness  of  the  place  to  be 
upon  the  shore  ;  and  Correze  had  hoped  to  run 
his  boat  in  on  land  unnoticed.  But,  as  the 
crankiness  of  fate  would  have  it,  several  people 
had  been  wakened  before  their  usual  hour. 
The  yachts  of  a  great  channel  race,  after  having 
been  all  night  out  towards  the  open  ocean,  had 
hove  in  sight  on  their  homeward  tack,  and  were 
objects  of  interest,  as  heavy  bets  were  on  them. 
Correze,  to  his  annoyance,  saw  several  skiffs  and 

H2 


100  MOTHS. 


canoes  already  oui  upon  the  water  round  him, 
and  several  poppy-coloured  and  turquoise- 
coloured  stripes  adorning  the  bodies  of  human 
beings,  and  moving  to  and  fro,  some  on  the 
sand,  some  in  the  surf,  some  in  the  deeper  sea. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  he  saw,  but  to  run 
the  boat  in,  and  trust  to  chance  to  take  his 
companion  unnoticed  across  the  few  hundred 
yards  that  separated  the  shore  from  the  Httle 
house  of  Lady  Dolly. 

But  chance  chose  otherwise. 

As  he  steered  through  the  still  shallow 
water,  and  ran  the  boat  up  on  the  sand,  there 
were  some  human  figures,  like  gaily  painted 
pegtops,  immediately  swarming  down  towards 
him,  and  amongst  them  Lady  Dolly  herself; 
Lady  Dolly  with  a  penthouse-like  erection  of 
straw  above  her  head  to  keep  the  sun  off,  and 
her  body  tightly  encased  in  black  and  yellow 
stripes,  till  she  looked  like  a  wasp — if  a  wasp 
had  ever  possessed  snowy  arms  quite  bare  and 
bare  white  legs. 

Correze  gave  his  hand  to  Yere  to  alight, 
and  she  set  her  little  wooden  shoes  upon  the 


MOTH&.  101 


dusty  shore,  and  did  not  looli  up.  The  golden 
clouds  seemed  all  about  her  still,  and  she  was 
wondering  what  she  could  ever  say  to  him  to 
thank  him  enough  for  all  his  care. 

A  peal  of  shrill  laughter  pierced  her  ear 
and  broke  her  musing. 

'  Correze,  what  nj^nph  or  naiad  have  you 
found  ?     A  mermaid  in  sabots  !     Oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! ' 

The  laughter  pealed  and  shrieked,  as 
fashionable  ladies'  laughter  will,  more  often 
than  is  pretty ;  and  then,  through  the  laughter 
she  heard  her  mother's  voice. 

'  Ah — ha  !  Correze  !  So  this  is  why  you 
steal  away  from  supper  when  the  daylight 
comes  ? ' 

Correze,  surrounded  by  the  swarming  and 
parti-coloured  pegtops,  lifted  his  head,  com- 
prehended the  situation,  and  bowed  to  the 
ground. 

'I  have  had  the  honour  and  happiness, 
madame,  to  be  of  a  slight  service  to  Mademoi- 
selle Herbert.' 

The  group  of  pegtops  was  composed  of 
Lady  Dolly,  the  Princesse  Helene,  a  Princess 


102  MOTES. 


Zephine,  three  other  ladies,  and  several  gentle- 
men, just  come  to  the  edge  of  the- sea  to^ 
bathe. 

Vere  gave  one  amazed  glance  at  her  mother 
and  blushed  scarlet.  The  glance  and  the 
blush  were  not  for  the  shame  of  her  own 
misdoing ;  they  were  for  the  shame  of  her 
mother's  attire.  Yere,  who  had  been  over- 
whelmed with  confusion  at  the  loss  of  her 
shoes,  was  very  far  from  comprehending  the 
state  of  feeling  which  adopts  a  fashionable 
swimming  costume  as  perfect  propriety,  and 
skips  about  in  the  surf  hand  in  hand  with  a 
male  swimmer,  the  cynosure  of  five  hundred 
eye-glasses  and  lorgnons. 

She  had  seen  the  bathing-dress  indeed,  but 
though  she  had  perceived  that  it  was  legless 
and  armless,  she  had  imagined  that  something 
must  be  worn  with  it  to  supplement  those 
deficiencies,  and  she  had  not  in  any  way 
reckoned  the  full  enormity  of  it  as  it  had  hung 
limp  over  the  back  of  a  chair. 

But  on  her  mother ! 

As  the  group  of  living  human  pegtops 
swarmed  before  her  on  the  edge  of  the  sea,  and 


MOTHS.  103 


she  realised  that  it  was  actually  her  mother, 
actually  her  dead  father's  wife,  who  was  before 
her,  with  those  black  and  yellow  stripes  for  all 
her  covering,  Vere  felfc  her  cheeks  and  brow 
burn  all  over  as  with  fire.  Tliey  thought  she 
was  blushing  with  shame  at  herself,  but 
she  was  blushing  for  shame  for  them,  and 
those  tight-drawn  rainbow-coloured  stripes  that 
showed  every  line  of  the  form  more  than  the 
kilted  skirts  and  scant  rags  of  the  fislier-girls 
ever  showed  theirs.  If  it  were  right  to  come 
down  to  dance  about  in  the  water  with  half-a- 
dozen  men  around,  Low  could  that  which  she 
had  done  herself  be  so  very  wrong  ?  The  sea  and 
the  sands  and  the  sky  seemed  to  go  round  with 
her.  She  was  only  conscious  of  the  anger 
sparkling  from  her  mother's  eyes  ;  she  did  not 
heed  the  tittering  and  the  teasing  with  which 
the  other  ladies  surrounded  her  companion. 

*  Vere  ! ' — Lady  Dolly  for  the  moment  said 
nothing  more.  She  stood  blankly  staring  at 
her  daughter,  at  the  sunburnt  hat,  the  tumbled 
hair,  the  wooden  shoes ;  and  at  the  figure  of 
Correze  against  the  sun. 

'  You — with  Correze  1 '  she  cried  at  length  j 


104  MOTHS. 


and  Correze,  studying  her  pretty  little  face, 
thou  gilt  h  VN  evil  pretty  women  could  some- 
times look. 

'  Mademoiselle  Herbert  had  lost  her  maid, 
and  her  roadj  and  her  shoes,'  he  hastened  to 
say  with  his  most  charming  grace ;  '  I  have 
been  happy  enough  to  be  of  a  little — too  little 
— service  to  her.  The  fault  was  none  of  hers, 
but  all  of  the  tide ;  and,  save  the  loss  of  the 
shoes,  there  is  no  mischief  done.' 

*M.  Correze  has  wasted  his  morning  for 
me,  and  has  been  so  very  kind,'  said  Yere. 
Her  voice  was  very  low,  but  it  was  steady. 
She  did  not  think  she  had  done  any  wrong, 
but  she  felt  bewildered,  and  was  not  quite  sure. 

Her  mother  laughed  very  irritably. 

'  Correze  is  always  too  kind,  and  always  a 
"preux  chevalier.  What  on  earth  have  you  been 
doing,  darling  ?  and  where  are  your  women  ? 
and  however  could  you  be  so  quite  too  dread- 
fully foolish.  I  suppose  you  think  life  is  like 
Alice  in  Wonderland  ?  Jack,  see  her  home, 
will  you  ?  and  join  us  at  the  yacht  and  lock 
her  up  in  her  room,  and  the  German  with  her. 


MOTHS.  106 


How  good  of  jou,  dear  Correze,  to  bore  your- 
self with  a  troublesome  child.  If  it  were 
anybody  else  except  you  who  had  come  ashore 
like  this  with  my  Vera  I  should  feel  really  too 
anxious  and  angry.     But,  with  you ' 

*  Madame  !  I  am  too  fortunate  !  If  you 
deem  me  to  be  of  any  use,  however,  let  me 
claim  as  a  guerdon,  permission  to  attend 
mademoiselle  your  daughter  to  her  home.' 

*  Jack,  see  her  home,  pray.  Do  you  hear 
me,'  said  Lady  Dolly  again,  sharply.  'No — 
not  you,  Correze — you  are  qnite  too  charming 
to  be  trusted.     Jack's  like  an  old  woman.' 

The  Princesse  Helene  smiled  at  the  Princess 
Zephine. 

If  old  women  are  thirty  years  old,  hand- 
some in  a  fair  bold  breezy  fashion,  and  six  feet 
three  in  height,  then  was  Lord  Jura  like  them. 
He  had  come  ashore  from  the  '  Ephemeris,' 
and  was  the  only  one  of  the  party  decently  clad. 

*  Why  should  she  go  home  ?  '  muttered  Jura, 
*  why  may  she  not  come  with  us — eh  ?  ' 

'Out  of  the  question,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
very  sharply. 


106  MOTHS. 


He  was  a  silent  man;  he  said  nothing 
now ;  he  strode  off  silently  to  Vere's  side,  lifting 
his  straw  hat  a  little,  in  sign  of  his  acceptance 
of  his  devoir. 

Yere  made  an  inclination  to  her  mother  and 
the  other  ladies,  with  the  somewhat  stately 
deference  that  had  been  imposed  on  her  at 
Bulmer  Chase,  and  began  to  move  toward  the 
Chalet  Ludoff,  whose  green  blinds  and  gilded 
scroll  balconies  were  visible  in  the  distance. 
Correze  bowed  very  low  with  his  own  matchless 
grace  and  ease,  and  began  to  follow  them. 

'  No ;  not  you  Correze  ;  T  cannot  permit  it. 
You  are  too  fascinating — infinitely  too  fasci- 
nating— to  play  chaperon,'  cried  Lady  Dolly 
once  more.  '  Yera,  when  you  get  home  go  to 
your  room,  and  stay  there  till  I  come.  You 
have  had  enough  liberty  to-day,  and  have 
abused  it  shamefully.' 

Having  screamed  that  admonition  on  the 
air.  Lady  Dolly  turned  to  her  friends  the 
feminine  pegtops,  and  entreated  them  not  to 
think  too  badly  of  her  naughty  little  puss — she 
was  so  young ! 


MOTHS.  107 


In  a  few  moments  all  the  pegtops  had 
jumped  into  the  water,  and  the  young  Due  de 
Dinant  was  teaching  Lady  Dolly  to  execute 
in  the  waves  a  new  dance  just  introduced  in  an 
operetta  of  Messieurs  Meilhac  and  Herve;  a 
dance  that  required  prodigious  leaps  and  pro- 
duced boisterous  laughter.  Vere  did  not  look 
back  once  ;  she  felt  very  ashamed  still,  but  not 
of  herself. 

Jura  did  not  address  a  word  to  her,  except 
when  they  had  approached  the  steps  of  the 
Chalet  LudofiP;  then  he  said,  somewhat  sheep- 
ishly,— '  I  say — if  she's  nasty  don't  you  mind. 
She  can  be ;  but  it  soon  blows  over ' 

Yere  was  silent. 

'  Won't  you  come  out  to-day,'  he  pursued. 
'  I  do  so  wish  you  would.  It's  my  tub,  you 
know,  and  you  would  like  it.     Do  come  ? ' 

'Where?' 

'  On  my  yacht.  We  are  going  to  picnic  at 
Villiers.  The  Grand  Duchess  is  coming,  and 
she  is  great  fun,  when  she  aren't  too  drunk. 
Why  shouldn't  you  come?  It  seems  to  me 
you  are  shut  up  like  a  nun.     It's  not  fair.' 


108  MOTES. 


^  My  mother  does  not  wish  me  to  come  any- 
where/ said  Vere  dreamily,  heeding  him  very 
little.  '  There  is  the  house.  Go  back  to  them, 
Lord  Jura.     Thanks.' 

Jura  went  back  ;  but  not  until  he  had  sent 
her  up  a  pretty  little  breakfast,  and  the  most 
innocent  of  his  many  French  novels. 

*It  is  a  beastly  shame,'  he  said,  as  he 
walked  towards  the  swimmers  over  the  sands. 

Correze,  meanwhile,  who  had  resisted  all 
entreaties  to  bathe,  and  all  invitations  to  pass 
the  day  on  the  '  Ephemeris,'  wended  his  way 
slowly  towards  his  hotel. 

'  She  has  claws,  that  pretty  cat,'  he  said  to 
himself,  thinking  of  Lady  Doll3^  He  had 
never  very  much  liked  her,  and  he  detested  her 
now  in  a  petulant  impetuous  way  that  now 
and  then  broke  up  the  sunny  softness  of  his 
temper. 

*  How  sweet  she  is  now ;  sweet  as  the  sweet- 
briar,  and  as  healthy,'  he  thought  to  himself. 
*  How  clear  the  soul,  how  clear  the  eyes !  If 
only  that  would  last !  But  one  little  year  in 
the  world,  and  it  will  be  all  altered.     She  will 


MOTSS.  109 


have  gained  some  chic,  no  doubt,  and  some 
talent  and  tact;  she  ^ill  wear  high-heeled 
shoes,  and  she  will  have  drawn  in  her  waist, 
and  learned  how  to  porter  le  seiri  en  offrande, 
and  learned  how  to  make  those  grand  grej 
eyes  look  languid,  and  lustrous,  and  terrible. 
Oh,  yes,  she  will  have  learned  all  that.  But 
then,  alas !  alas !  she  will  have  learned  so 
much  too.  She  will  have  learned  what  the 
sickly  sarcasms  mean,  and  the  wrapt-up  pruri- 
encies intend,  and  what  women  and  men  are 
worth,  and  how  politics  are  knavish  tricks,  and 
the  value  of  a  thing  is  just  as  much  as  it  will 
bring,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  dreary  gospel  of 
self.  What  a  pity !  what  a  pity  !  But  it  is 
always  so.  I  dare  say  she  will  never  stoop  to 
folly  as  her  pretty  mother  does ;  but  the  bloom 
will  go.  She  will  be  surprised,  shocked,  pained  ; 
then,  little  by  little,  she  will  get  used  to  it 
all—  they  all  do — and  then  the  world  will  have 
her,  body  and  soul,  and  perhaps  will  put  a  bit 
of  ice  where  that  tender  heart  now  beats.  She 
will  be  a  great  lady,  I  dare  say — a  very  great 
lady — nothing  worse,  very  likely ;  but,  all  the 


110  MOTHS. 


same,  my  sweetbriar  will  be  withered,  and  my 
wliite  wild  rose  will  be  dead — and  what  will  it 
matter  to  me  ?  I  dare  say  I  shall  be  a  musical 
box  with  a  broken  spring,  lying  in  a  dust  of 
dried  myrtle  and  musty  laurels  ! ' 

Lady  Dolly  danced,  floated,  bobbed  like  a 
cork,  drifted  languidly  with  her  arms  above  her 
head,  dived,  and  disappeared  with  only  the 
rosy  soles  of  her  feet  visible — did  everything 
that  a  pretty  woman  and  a  good  swimmer  can 
do  in  shallow  smooth  water,  with  no  breeze  to 
mar  her  comfort.  But  she  was  in  a  very  bad 
temper  all  the  time. 

Jura  did  not  improve  it,  when  she  came  out 
of  the  water,  by  asking  her,  again,  to  let  her 
daughter  go  with  them  in  the  '  Ephemeris.' 

'  An  grand  jamais  I '  said  Lady  Dolly,  quite 
furiously.  '  After  such  an  exhibition  of  herself 
with  a  singer  !     Are  you  mad  ?  ' 

She  went  home  furious ;  changed  her  wet 
stripes  for  a  yachting  dress  in  sullen  silence; 
refused  to  see  the  German  governess,  or  to 
allow  Yere's  door  to  be  opened  till  she  should 
returu  in  the  evening,  and  went  down  to  the 


MOTES.  Ill 


yacht  in  a  state  of  great  irritation,  with  a 
charming  costume,  all  white  serge  and  navy 
blue  satin,  with  anchor  buttons  in  silver,  and  a 
Norwegian  belt  hung  with  everything  that  the 
mind  of  man  could  imagine  as  going  on  to  a 
girdle. 

The  *  Ephemeris '  was  one  of  the  best  yachts 
on  the  high  seas ;  had  a  good  cook,  wonderful 
wines,  a  piano,  a  library,  a  cabin  of  rosewood 
and  azure,  and  deck  hammocks  of  silk.  Never- 
theless everything  seemed  to  go  wrong  on 
board  of  her  that  day — at  least  to  Lady  Dolly. 
They  got  becalmed,  and  stuck  stupidly  still, 
while  the  steam  yachts  were  tearing  ahead  in 
a  cruel  and  jeering  manner;  then  the  sea  got 
rough  all  in  a  moment ;  the  lobster  salad  dis- 
agreed with  her,  or  something  did ;  a  spiteful 
stiff  wind  rose ;  and  the  Grand  Duchess  bor- 
rowed her  cigarette  case  and  never  returned 
it,  and  of  course  could  not  be  asked  for  it,  and 
it  contained  the  only  verbena-scented  papelitos 
that  there  were  on  board.  Then  Jura  was  too 
attentive  to  the  comfort  of  another  woman,  or 
she  fancied,  at  any  rate,  that  he  was;   and 


112  MOTHS. 


none  of  her  especial  pets  were  there,  so  she 
could  not  make  reprisals  as  she  wished;  and 
Correze  had  obstinately  and  obdurately  refused 
to  come  at  all.  Not  that  she  cared  a  straw 
about  Correze,  but  she  hated  being  refused. 

'  What  a  wax  you're  in,  Dolly !  '  said  Lord 
Jura,  bringing  her  some  iced  drinks  and 
peaches. 

'  When  I've  had  three  mad  people  sent  to 
me  ! '  she  cried  in  a  rage.  '  And  I'll  be  obliged 
to  you,  Jack,  not  to  use  slang  to  we.' 

Lord  Jura  whistled  and  went  aft. 

'  What  a  boor  he  grows !  '  thought  Lady 
Dolly ;  and  the  '  Ephemeris  '  was  pitching,  and 
she  hated  pitching,  and  the  little  Due  de  Dinant 
was  not  on  board  because  Jack  wouldn't  have 
him;  and  she  felt  ill-used,  furious,  wretched, 
and  hated  the  cook  for  making  the  lobster 
salad,  and  Yere  for  having  been  born. 

'  A  boy  wouldn't  have  been  half  so  bad,'  she 
thought.  '  He'd  have  been  always  away,  and 
they'd  have  put  him  in  the  army.  But  a  girl ! 
It's  all  very  easy  to  say  marry  her,  but  she 
hasn't  any  money,  and  the  Mull  people  won't 


MOTHS.  ]]3 


give  her  any,  and  mj  own  people  can't,  and  as 
for  Mr.  Vanderdecken,  one  miglit  as  well  try  to 
get  blood  out  of  a  flint ;  and  they  may  say  what 
they  like,  but  all  men  want  money  when  they 
marry  nowadays,  even  when  they've  got  heaps 
more  than  they  know  what  to  do  with  them- 
selves. What  a  horrid  woman  the  Grand 
Duchess  is.  She's  drunk  already,  and  it  isn't 
three  o'clock ! ' 

'  She's  going  splendidly  now,'  said  Jura, 
meaning  the  '  Ephemeris,'  that  plunged  and 
reared  as  if  she  were  a  mare  instead  of  a 
schooner ;  and  the  fresh  sou'easter  that  had 
risen  sent  her  farther  and  farther  westward 
towards  the  haze  of  distant  seas. 

*  I  believe  we're  going  straight  to  America  ! 
what  idiocy  is  ^yachting ! '  said  Lady  Dolly 
savagely,  as  the  wind  tore  at  her  tiny  multi- 
tudinous curls. 

Meanwhile,  Vere,  in  religious  obedience,  had 
gone  to  the  little  chamber  that  was  called  by 
courtesy  at  the  Chalet  Ludoff  a  study,  and 
submitting  to  be  locked  in,  remained  happy  in 
the  morning's  golden  dream  of  sunshine,  of  song, 

VOL.    I.  I 


314  MOTHS. 


of  the  sea,  of  the  summer.  She  had  found  her 
lost  Northumbrian  safe,  but  in  agonies  of  terror 
and  self-reproa,ch,  and  the  amiable  German  for 
once  very  seriously  angry.  But  Vere  was  not 
to  be  ruffled  or  troubled ;  she  smiled  at  all 
reproof,  scarcely  hearing  it,  and  put  her  cabbage 
rose  and  her  sprigs  of  lavender  in  water.  Then 
she  fell  fast  asleep  on  a  couch,  from  fatigue  and 
the  warmth  of  the  Norman  sun,  and  dreamed 
of  the  blue  gentian  of  the  Alps  that  she  had 
never  seen,  and  of  the  music  of  the  voice  of 
Correze.  ^ 

When  she  awoke  some  hours  had  passed — 
the  clock  told  her  it  was  two.  She  never 
thought  of  moving  from  her  prison.  The 
ricketty  white  and  gold  door  would  have  given 
way  at  a  push,  but  to  her  it  was  inviolate.  She 
had  been  reared  to  give  obedience  in  the  spirit 
as  well  as  the  letter. 

She  thought  no  one  had  ever  had  so  beau- 
tiful a  day  as  this  morning  of  hers.  She  would 
have  believed  it  a  dream,  only  there  were  her 
rose  and  the  homely  heads  of  the  lavender. 

The  German  brought  Euclid  and  Sophocles 


MOTHS.  115 


into  the  prison-chamber,  but  Vere   put  them 
gently  away. 

'  I  cannot  study  to-day,'  she  said.  It  was 
the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  had  ever  said 
so. 

The  Fraulein  -went  away  vv'eeping,  and  be- 
lieving that  the  heavens  would  fall.  Vere,  with 
her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  leaned  back 
and  watched  the  wliite  clouds  come  and  go 
above  the  sea,  and  fancied  the  air  was  still  full 
of  that  marvellous  and  matchless  voice  which 
had  told  her  a!:  last  a.11  that  music  could  be. 

'  He  is  the  angel  Raphael ! '  she  said  to 
herself.  It  seemed  to  her  that  he  could  not  be 
mere  mortal  man. 

Her  couch  was  close  to  the  glass  doors  of 
the  room,  and  they  opened  into  one  of  the 
scroll-work  balconies  which  embroidered  the 
fantastic  front  of  the  Chalet  Ludoff.  The  room 
was  nominally  upstairs,  but  literally  it  was 
scarcely  eight  feet  above  the  ground  without. 

It  was   in  the  full  hot  sunshine    of  early 
afternoon  when  the  voice  she  dreamed  of^said 
softly,  '  Mademoiselle  Herbert ! ' 
12 


116  MOTHS. 


Yere  roused  herself  with  a  start,  and  saw 
the  arm  of  Correze  leaning  on  the  balcony  and 
his  eyes  looking  at  her ;  he  was  standing  on  the 
stone  perron  below. 

'  I  came  to  bid  you  farewell/  he  said  softly. 
*  I  go  to  Germany  to-night.  You  are  a  captive, 
I  know,  so  1  dared  to  speak  to  you  thus.' 

'  You  go  away  !  ' 

To  the  girl  it  seemed  as  if  darkness  fell  over 
the  sea  and  shore. 

'  Ah !  we  princes  of  art  are  but  slaves  of  the 
ring  after  all.  Yes,  my  engagements  have  been 
made  many  months  ago  :  to  Baden,  to  Yienna, 
to  Moscow,  to  Petersburgh ;  then  Paris  and 
London  once  more.  It  may  be  long  ere  we 
meet,  if  ever  we  do,  and  I  dare  to  call  myself 
your  friend,  though  you  never  saw  my  face 
until  this  morning.' 

'You  have  been  so  good  to  me,'  murmured 
Yere ;  and  then  stopped,  not  knowing  what 
ailed  her  in  the  sudden  sense  of  sorrow,  loss, 
and  pain,  which  came  over  her  as  she  listened. 

'  Oh,  altro  ! '  laughed  Correze,  lifting  him- 
self a  little  higher,  and  leaning  more  easily  on 


MOTHS.  117 


the  iron  of  tlie  balcony.  '  I  found  you  a  pair 
of  wooden  shoes,  a  cup  of  milk,  and  a  cabbage 
rose.  Sorry  things  to  offer  to  an  enchanted 
princess  who  had  missed  her  road  !  My  dear, 
few  men  will  not  be  willing  to  be  as  good  to 
you  as  you  will  let  them  be.  You  are  a  child. 
You  do  not  know  your  power.  I  wonder  what 
teachers  you  will  have  ?  I  wish  you  could  go 
untaught,  but  there  is  no  hope  of  that.' 

Vere  was  silent.  She  did  not  understand 
what  he  meant.  She  understood  only  that  he 
was  going  far  away — this  brilliant  and  beauti- 
ful stranger  who  had  come  to  her  with  the 
morning  sun. 

*  Mademoiselle  Herbert,'  continued  Correze, 
'  I  shall  sound  like  a  preacher,  and  I  am  but  a 
graceless  singer,  but  try  and  keep  yourself  "  un- 
spotted from  the  world."  Those  are  holy  words, 
and  I  am  not  a  holy  speaker,  but  try  and  re- 
member them.  This  world  you  will  be  launched 
in  does  no  woman  good.  It  is  a  world  of  moths. 
Half  the  moths  are  burning  themselves  in 
feverish  frailty,  the  other  half  are  corroding 
and  consuming  all  that  they  touch.     Do  not 


118  MOTHS. 


become  of  either  kind.  You  are  made  for 
something  better  than  a  moth.  You  will  be 
tempted  ;  you  will  be  laughed  at ;  you  will  be 
surrounded  with  the  most  insidious  sort  of  evil 
example,  namely,  that  which  does  not  look 
like  evil  one  whit  more  than  the  belladonna 
berry  looks  like  death.  The  women  of  your 
time  are  not,  perhaps,  the  worst  the  world  has 
seen,  but  they  are  certainly  the  most  contemp- 
tible. They  have  dethroned  grace  ;  they  have 
driven  out  honour;  they  have  succeeded  in 
making  men  ashamed  of  the  sex  of  their 
mothers  ;  and  they  have  set  up  nothing  in  the 
stead  of  all  they  have  destroyed  except  a  feverish 
frenzy  for  amusement  and  an  idiotic  imita- 
tion of  vice.  You  cannot  understand  now, 
but  you  will  see  it — too  soon.  They  will  try 
to  make  you  like  them.  Do  not  let  them  suc- 
ceed. You  have  truth,  innocence,  and  serenity 
— treasure  them.  The  women  of  your  day  will 
ridicule  you,  and  tell  you  it  is  an  old-fashioned 
triad,  out  of  date  like  the  Graces ;  but  do  not 
listen.  It  is  a  triad  without  which  no  woman 
is  truly  beautiful,  and  without  which  no  man's 


MOTHS.  119 


love  for  her  can  be  pure.  I  would  fain  say 
more  to  you,  but  I  am  afraid  to  tell  you  what 
you  do  not  know ;  and  woe  to  those  by  whom 
such  knowledge  first  comes !  Mon  enfant, 
adieu.' 

He  had  laid  a  bouquet  of  stephanotis  and 
orchids  on  the  sill  of  the  window  at  her  feet, 
and  had  dropped  out  of  sight  before  she  had 
realised  his  farewell. 

When  she  strained  her  eyes  to  look  for  him, 
he  had  already  disappeared.  Tears  blinded  her 
sight,  and  fell  on  the  rare  blossoms  of  his  gift. 

'  I  will  try — I  will  try  to  be  what  he  wishes,' 
she  murmured  to  the  flowers.  '  If  only  I  knew 
better  what  he  meant.' 

The  time  soon  came  when  she  knew  too  well 
what  he  meant. 

Now  she  sat  with  the  flowers  in  her  lap  and 
wondered  wearily,  and  sobbed  silently,  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

Correze  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

At  sunset  Lady  Dolly  returned^  out  of  temper. 
They  had  been  becalmed,  again  for  two  hours, 
the  sea  all  of  a  sudden  becoming  like  oil,  just  to 
spite  her,  and  they  had  played  to  wile  away  the 
time,  and  the  Grand  Duchess  had  won  a  great 
deal  of  her  money,  besides  smoking  every  one 
of  her  cigarettes  and  letting  the  case  fall  through 
the  hatchway. 

'  I  will  never  go  out  with  that  odious  Russian 
again — never  !  the  manners  of  a  cantiniere  and 
the  claws  of  a  croupier  !  '  she  said  in  immeasur- 
able disgust  of  the  august  lady  whom  she  had 
idolised  in  the  morning ;  and  she  looked  in  at 
the  little  study,  when  she  reached  home,  to 


MOTHS.  121 


allay  her  rage  with  making  some  one  uncom- 
fortable. 

'Are  you  sufficiently  ashamed  of  yourself, 
Vera? '  she  said  as  she  entered. 

Yere  rose,  rather  uneasily,  and  with  soft  sad 
dewy  eyes. 

'  Why  should  I  be  ashamed  mother  ?  '  she 
said  simply. 

'  Why  ?  why  ?  you  ask  why  ?  after  com- 
promising yourself,  as  you  did  this  morning?  ' 

'  Compromise  ? ' 

Yere  had  never  heard  the  word.  Women 
who  were  compromised  were  things  that  had 
never  been  heard  of  at  Bulmer. 

'  Do  not  repeat  what  I  say.  It  is  the  rudest 
thing  you  can  do,'  said  her  mother  sharply. 
'  Yes,  compromised,  hideously  compromised — 
and  with  Correze,  of  all  persons  in  the  world  ! 
You  must  have  been  mad  ! ' 

Yere  looked  at  her  stephanotis  and  orchids, 
and  her  young  face  grew  almost  stern. 

'  If  you  mean  I  did  anything  wrong,  I  did 
no  wrong.  It  was  all  accident,  and  no  one 
could  have  been  so  kind  as — he — was.' 


122  MOTHS. 


The  ear  of  Lady  Dolly,  quick  at  such  signs, 
caught  the  little  pause  before  the  pronoun. 

'  The  world  never  believes  in  accidents,'  she 
said  chillily.  '  You  had  better  understand  that 
for  the  future.  To  be  seen  coming  home  in  a 
boat  early  in  the  morning  all  alone  with  such  a 
man  as  Correze  would  be  enough  to  ruin  any 
girl  at  the  outset  of  her  life — to  ruin  her  !   ' 

Yere's  eyes  opened  in  bewildered  surprise. 
She  could  not  follow  her  mother's  thoughts  at 
all,  nor  could  she  see  where  she  had  been  in 
any  error. 

'  Correze,  of  all  men  upon  earth  ! '  echoed 
her  mother.  '  Good  heavens !  do  you  know  he 
is  a  singer  ?  ' 

'  Yes,'  said  Yere  softly ;  hearing  all  around 
her  as  she  spoke  the  sweet  liquid  melody  of 
that  perfect  voice  which  had  called  the  sky- 
lark '  a  little  brother.' 

'A  great  singer,  I  grant;  the  greatest,  if 
you  like,  but  still  a  singer,  and  a  man  with  a 
hundred  love  affairs  in  every  capital  he  enters ! 
And  to  come  home  alone  with  such  a  man  after 
hours  s^pent  alone  with  him.     It  was  madness, 


MOTES.  123 


Vera ;  and  it  was  worse,  it  was  forward,  impu- 
dent, unmaidenly  1 ' 

The  girl's  pale  face  flushed ;  she  lifted  lier 
head  with  a  certain  indignant  pride. 

'  You  must  saj  what  jou  will,  mother,'  she 
said  quietly.     '  But  that  is  very  untrue.' 

*  Don't  dare  to  answer  me,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
'  I  tell  you  it  was  disgraceful,  disgraceful,  and 
goodness  knows  how  ever  I  shall  explain  it 
away.  Helene  has  been  telling  the  story  to 
everybody,  and  given  it  seven-leagued  boots 
already.  True  !  who  cares  what  is  true  or  what 
is  not  true — it  is  what  a  thing  looTcs  I  I  believe 
everybody  says  you  had  come  from  Havre  with 
Correze  !  ' 

Yere  stood  silent  and  passive,  her  eyes  on 
her  stephanotis  and  orchids. 

*  Where   did    you    get    those   extravagant 

flowers?     Surely  Jack  never '  said   Lady 

Dolly  suspiciously. 

'  He  brought  them,'  answered  Yere. 

'  Correze  ?     Whilst  I  was  away  ?  ' 

'  Yes.     He  spoke  to  me  at  the  balcony.' 

'Well,  my  dear,  you  do  Bulmer  credit! 


124  MOTES, 


No  Spanisli  or  Italian  heroine  out  of  his  own 
operas  could  conduct  herself  more  audaciously 
on  the  first  day  of  her  liberty.  It  is  certainly 
what  I  always  thought  would  come  of  your 
grandmother's  mode  of  education.  Well,  go 
upstairs  in  your  bedroom  and  do  not  leave  it 
until  I  send  for  you.  N'o,  you  can't  take 
flowers  upstairs  ;  they  are  very  unwholesome — 
as  unwholesome  as  the  kindness  of  Correze.' 

Yere  went,  wistfully  regarding  her  treasures; 
but  she  had  kept  the  faded  rose  and  the  laven- 
der in  her  hand  unnoticed. 

'After  all,  I  care  most  for  these,'  she 
thought ;  the  homely  seaborn  things  that  had 
been  gathered  after  the  songs. 

When  the  door  had  closed  on  her  Lady 
Dolly  rang  for  her  maitre  d' hotel. 

*  Pay  the  Fraulein  Schroder  three  months' 
salary,  and  send  her  away  by  the  first  steamer ; 
and  pay  the  English  servant  whatever  she 
wants  and  send  her  by  the  first  steamer.  Mind 
they  are  both  gone  when  I  wake.  And  I  shall 
go  to  Deauville  the  day  after  to-morrow ;  pro- 
bably I  shall  never  come  back  here.' 


MOTHS.  125 


Tlie  official  bowed,  obedient. 

As  she  passed  through  her  drawing-rooms 
Lady  Dolly  took  up  the  bouquet  of  Correze 
and  went  to  her  o^vn  chamber. 

'  Pick  me  out  the  best  of  those  flowers,'  she 
said  to  her  maid,  'and  stick  them  about  all 
over  me;  here  and  there,  you  know.' 

She  was  going  to  dine  with  the  Duchesse  de 
Sonnaz  at  Deauville. 

As  she  went  to  her  carriage  the  hapless 
German,  quivering  and  sobbing,  threw  herself 
in  her  path. 

'  Oh,  miladi !  miladi !  '  she  moaned.  '  It 
cannot  be  true  ?  You  send  me  not  away  thus 
from  the  child  of  my  heart?  Ten  years  have 
I  striven  to  write  the  will  of  God,  and  the 
learning  that  is  better  than  gold,  on  that 
crystal  pure  mind,  and  my  life,  and  my  brain, 
and  my  soul  I  do  give ' 

'You  should  have  done  your  duty,' 
said  Lady  Dolly,  wrapping  herself  up  and 
hastening  on.  'And  you  can't  complain, 
my  good  Schroder;  you  have  got  three 
months'  in  excess  of  your  wages,'  and  she  drew 


126  MOTHS. 


her  swan's-down  about  her  and  got  into  her 
carriage, 

'Now,  on  my  sonl,  that  was  downright 
vulgar,'  muttered  John  Jura.  '  Hang  it  all ! 
it  was  vulgar  ! ' 

But  he  sighed  as  he  said  it  to  himself,  for 
his  experience  had  taught  him  that  highborn 
ladies  could  be  very  vulgar  when  they  were 
moved  to  be  ill-natured. 

Correze  was  at  the  villa. 

She  saw  him  a  moment  before  dinner,  and 
gave  him  her  prettiest  smile. 

'  Oh,  Correze  !  what  flowers  !  I  stole  some 
of  them,  you  see.  You  would  turn  my  child's 
head.     I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  Baden  ! ' 

He  laughed,  and  said  something  graceful 
and  novel,  turned  on  the  old  mater  pulchra,filia 
pulchrior. 

The  dinner  was  not  too  long,  and  was  very 
gay.  After  it  everybody  wandered  out  into  the 
gardens,  which  were  hung  w^ith  coloured  lamps 
and  had  musicians  hidden  in  shrubberies,  dis- 
coursing sweet  sounds  to  rival  the  nightingales. 
The  light  was  subdued,  the  air  delicious,  the 


MOTHS.  127 


sea  glimmered  pliosplioresceiit  and  starlit  at 
tlie  end  of  dusk^^  alleys  and  rose-lmng  walks. 
Lady  Dolly  wandered  about  with  Sergius 
Zouroff  and  otliers,  and  felt  quite  romantic, 
wliilst  Jolm  Jnra  yawned  and  sulked;  she 
never  allowed  him  to  do  anything  else  while 
she  was  amusing  herself. 

Correze  joined  her  and  her  Russians  in  a  little 
path  between  walls  of  the  quatre-saison  rose  and 
a  carpet  of  velvety  turf.  The  stars  sparkled 
through  the  rose-leaves,  the  sound  of  the  sea 
stole  up  the  silent  little  alley.  Lady  Dolly 
looked  very  pretty  in  a  dress  of  dead  white,  with 
the  red  roses  above  her  and  their  dropped 
leaves  at  her  feet.  She  was  smoking,  which 
was  a  pity — the  cigarette  did  not  agree  with 
the  roses. 

'Madame,'  cried  Correze,  as  he  sauntered 
on  and  disengaged  her  a  little  from  the  others, 
'  I  have  never  seen  anything  so  exquisite  as 
your  young  daughter.  Will  you  believe  that  I 
mean  no  compliment  when  I  say  so  ?  ' 

'  My  deal'  Correze  !     She  is  only  a  child ! ' 

'  She  is  not  a  child.     What  would  you  say. 


128  MOTHS. 


madame,  if  I  told  you  that  for  full  five  minutes 
I  had  the  madness  to  think  to-day  that  I  would 
pay  my  forfeit  to  Baden  and  Vienna  for  the 
sake  of  staying  here  ?  ' 

*  Heaven  forbid  you  should  do  any  such 
thing  !     You  would  turn  her  head  in  a  week  ! ' 

'  What  would  you  say,  madame,'  he  con- 
tinued with  a  little  laugh,  disregarding  her 
interruption,  '  what  would  you  say  if  I  told  you 
that  I,  Correze,  had  actually  had  the  folly  to 
fancy  for  five  minutes  that  a  vagabond  nightin- 
gale might  make  his  nest  for  good  in  one  virgin 
heart  ?     What  would  you  say,  miladi  ?  ' 

'  My  dear  Correze,  if  you  were  by  any 
kind  of  possibility  talking  seriously ' — 

'  I  am  talking  quite  seriously — or  let  us  sup- 
pose that  I  am.    What  would  you  say,  miladi  ?  ' 

'  I  should  say,  my  dear  Correze,  that  you 
are  too  entirely  captivating  to  be  allowed  to 
say  such  things  even  in  an  idle  jest,  and  that 
you  would  be  always  most  perfectly  charming  in 
every  capacity  but  one.' 

'  And  that  one  is  ?  ' 

'  As  a  husband  for  anybody  ! ' 


MOTHS. 


129 


'  I  suppose  you  are  right,'  said  Correze  with 
a  little  sigh.  'Will  you  let  me  light  my 
cigarette  at  yours  ? ' 

An  hour  later  he  was  on  his  way  to  Baden 
in  the  middle  hours  of  the  starry  fragrant 
summer  night. 


VOL.   I. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Eaphael  de  Correze  had  said  no  more  than  the 
truth  of  himself  that  morning  by  the  sweetbriar 
hedge  on  the  edge  of  the  Norman  cliffs. 

All  the  papers  and  old  documents  that  were 
needful  to  prove  him  the  lineal  descendant  of 
the  great  Savoy  family  of  Correze  were  safe  in 
his  bureau  in  Paris,  but  he  spoke  no  more  of 
them  than  he  spoke  of  the  many  love-letters 
and  imprudent  avowals  that  were  also  locked 
away  in  caskets  and  cabinets  in  the  only  place 
that  in  a  way  could  be  called  his  home,  his 
apartment  in  the  Avenue  Marigny.  What 
was  the  use?  All  Marquis  and  Peer  of  Savoy 
though  he  was  by  descent  he  was  none  the  less 


MOTHS.  131 


only  a  tenor  singer,  and  in  his  heart  of  hearts 
he  was  too  keenly  proud  to  drag  his  old  descent 
into  the  notice  of  men  merely  that  he  might 
look  like  a  frivolous  boaster,  an  impudent  teller 
of  empty  tales.  Noblesse  oblige,  he  had  often 
said  to  himself,  resisting  temptation  in  his  oft- 
tempted  career,  but  no  one  ever  heard  him  say 
aloud  that  paternoster  of  princes.  His  remem- 
brance of  his  race  had  been  always  with  him 
like  a  talisman,  but  he  wore  it  like  a  talisman, 
secretly,  and  shy  even  of  having  his  faith  in  it 
known. 

Correze,  with  all  his  negligence  and  gaiety, 
and  spoilt  child  of  the  world  though  he  was, 
appraised  very  justly  the  worth  of  the  world 
and  his  place  in  it. 

He  knew  very  well  that  if  a  rain-storm  on  a 
windy  night  were  to  quench  his  voice  in  his 
throat  for  ever,  all  his  troops  of  lovers  and 
friends  would  fall  away  from  him,  and  his  name 
drop  down  intodarkness  like  any  shooting  star 
on  an  August  night.  He  never  deceived  him- 
self. 

^  I  am  only  the  world's  favourite  plaything,' 

£2 


132  MOTHS, 


he  would  say  to  himself,  '  If  I  lost  my  voice,  I 
should  be  served  like  the  nightingale  in  Hans 
Andersen's  story.  Oh!  I  do  not  blame  the 
world — things  are  always  so  ;  only  it  is  well  to 
remember  it.  It  serves,  like  Yorick's  skull,  or 
Philip's  slave,  to  remind  one  that  one  is  mortal.' 

The  remembrance  gave  him  force,  but  it 
also  gave  him  a  tinge  of  bitterness,  so  far  as  any 
bitterness  is  ever  possible  to  a  sunny,  generous, 
and  careless  nature,  and  it  made  him  before 
everything  an  artist. 

When  he  was  very  insolent  to  grand  people 
— which  he  often  was  in  the  caprice  of  celebrity 
— those  people  said  to  one  another  '  Ah  !  that 
is  because  he  thinks  himself  Marquis  de  Correze.' 
But  they  were  wrong.  It  was  because  he  knew 
himself  a  great  artist. 

The  scorn  of  genius  is  the  most  boundless 
and  the  most  arrogant  of  all  scorn,  and  he  had 
it  in  him  very  strongly.  The  world  said  he 
was  extravagantly  vain  ;  the  world  was  wrong ; 
yet  if  he  had  been,  it  would  have  been  excus- 
able. Women  had  thrown  themselves  into  his 
arms  from  his  earliest  youth  for  sake  of  his 


MOTHS.  133 


beautiful  face,  before  his  voice  had  been  heard ; 
and  when  his  voice  had  captured  Europe  there 
was  scarcely  any  folly,  any  madness,  any 
delirium,  a,ny  shame  that  women  had  not  been 
ready  to  rush  into  for  his  sake,  or  for  the  mere 
sight  of  him  and  mere  echo  of  his  song. 

There  is  no  fame  on  earth  so  intoxicating, 
so  universal,  so  enervating,  as  the  fame  of  a 
great  singer ;  as  it  is  the  most  uncertain  and 
unstable  of  all,  the  most  evanescent  and  most 
fugitive,  so  by  compensation  is  it  the  most 
delightful  and  the  most  gorgeous;  rouses  the 
multitude  to  a  height  of  rapture  as  no  other  art 
can  do,  and  makes  the  dull  and  vapid  crowds 
of  modern  life  hang  breathless  on  one  voice,  as 
in  Greece,  under  the  violet  skies,  men  hearkened 
to  the  voice  of  Pindar  or  of  Sappho. 

The  world  has  grown  apathetic  and  pur- 
blind. Critics  still  rave  and  quarrel  before  a 
canvas,  but  the  nations  do  not  care ;  quarries 
of  marble  are  hewn  into  various  shapes,  and  the 
throngs  gape  before  them  and  are  indifferent ; 
writers  are  so  many  that  their  writings  blend 
in  the  public  mind  in  a  confused  phantasma- 


184  MOTHS. 


goria  where  the  colours  have  run  into  one 
another  and  the  lines  are  all  waved  and  in- 
distinct ;  the  singer  alone  still  keeps  the  old 
magic  power,  Hhe  beaut}^  that  was  Athens' 
and  the  glory  that  was  Eome's/  still  holds  the 
divine  cadnceus,  still  sways  the  vast  thronged 
auditorium,  till  the  myriads  hold  their  breath 
like  little  children  in  delight  and  awe.  The 
great  singer  alone  has  the  old  magic  sway  of 
fame ;  and  if  he  close  his  lips  '  the  gaiety  of 
nations  is  eclipsed,'  and  the  world  seems  empty 
and  silent  like  a  wood  in  which  the  birds  are 
all  dead. 

It  is  a  supreme  power,  and  may  well  intoxi- 
cate a  man. 

Correze  had  been  as  little  delirious  as  any 
who  have  drunk  of  the  philtre  of  a  universal 
fame,  although  at  times  it  had  been  too  strong  for 
him,  and  had  made  him  audacious,  capricious, 
inconstant,  and  guilty  of  some  follies ;  but  his 
life  was  pure  from  any  dark  reproach. 

'  Soyez  gentilhomme,'  his  father  had  said  to 
him  in  the  little  hut  on  the  Pennine  Alps,  with 
the  snow-fields  severing  them  from  all  other 


MOTHS.  135 


life  than  their  own,  and  had  said  it  never 
thinking  that  his  boy  would  be  more  than  at 
best  a  village  priest  or  teacher;  the  bidding- 
had  sunk  into  the  mind  of  the  child,  and  the 
man  had  not  forgotten  it  now  that  Europe  was 
at  his  feet,  and  its  princes  but  servants  who  had 
to  wait  his  time ;  and  he  liked  to  make  them 
wait.  'Perhaps  that  is  not  gentilhomme,'  he 
would  say  in  reproach  to  himself,  but  it  diverted 
him  and  he  did  it  very  often ;  most  often  when 
he  thought  angrily  that  he  was  but  like  Hans 
Andersen's  nightingale,  the  jewelled  one,  that 
was  thrown  aside  and  despised  when  once  its 
spring  was  snapped  and  broken.  If  he  were  only 
that,  he  was  now  at  the  moment  when  emperor 
and  court  thought  nothing  in  heaven  or  on 
earth  worth  hearing  but  the  jewelled  nightin- 
gale, and  '  the  crowds  in  the  streets  hummed  his 
song.'  Yet  as  the  night  train  bore  him  through 
the  level  meadows,  and  cornfields  glistening  in 
the  moonlight,  and  the  hush  of  a  sleeping  world, 
his  eyes  were  dim  and  his  heart  was  heavy,  and 
on  the  soft  cushions  of  the  travelling  bed  they 
had  given  him  he  could  not  find  rest. 


13G  MOTHS, 


'  The  moths  will  corrupt  her,'  he  thought, 
sadly  and  wistfully.  '  The  moths  will  eat  all 
that  fine  delicate  feeling  away,  little  by  little ; 
the  moths  of  the  world  will  eat  the  unselfishness 
first,  and  then  the  innocence,  and  then  the 
honesty,  and  then  the  decency  ;  no  one  will  see 
them  eating,  no  one  will  see  the  havoc  being 
wrought ;  but  little  by  little  the  fine  fabric 
will  go,  and  in  its  place  will  be  dust.  Ah,  the 
pity  of  it !  The  pity  of  it !  The  webs  come 
out  of  the  great  weaver's  loom  lovely  enough, 
but  the  moths  of  the  world  eat  them  all.  One 
weeps  for  the  death  of  children,  but  perhaps  the 
change  of  them  into  callous  men  and  worldly 
women  is  a  sadder  thing  to  see  after  all.' 

His  heart  was  heavy. 

Was  it  love  ?  No ;  he  fancied  not ;  it 
could  not  be.  Love  with  him — an  Almaviva  as 
much  off  the  stage  as  on  it — had  been  a 
charming,  tumultuous,  victorious  thing;  a 
concession  rather  to  the  weakness  of  the  wo- 
men who  sought  him  than  to  his  own;  the 
chief,  indeed,  but  only  one  amongst  many 
other  distractions  and  triumphs. 


MOTHS.  137 


It  was  not  love  that  made  his  heart  go  out 
to  that  fah'-haired  child,  with  the  thoughtful 
questioning  eyes.  It  was  rather  pity,  tender- 
ness, reverence  for  innocence,  rage  against  the 
world  which  would  so  soon  change  her ; — poor 
little  moth,  dreaming  of  flying  up  to  heaven^s 
light,  and  born  to  sink  into  earth's  commonest 
fires  ! 

Correze  did  not  esteem  women  highly. 
They  had  caressed  him  into  satiety,  and 
wooed  him  till  his  gratitude  was  more  than 
half  contempt ;  but  in  his  innermost  heart, 
where  his  old  faiths  dwelt  unseen  by  even 
his  best  friends,  there  was  the  fancy  of  what 
a  woman  should  be,  might  be,  unspotted  by 
the  world,  and  innocent  in  thought,  as  well  as 
deed. 

Such  a  woman  had  seemed  to  him  to  be  in 
the  girl  whom  he  had  found  by  the  sea,  as 
the  grand  glory  of  the  full  white  rose  lies  folded 
in  the  blush-rose  bud. 

It  was  too  absurd  ! 

Her  mother  had  been  right,  quite  right. 

The  little  frivolous,  artificial  woman,  with 


138  MOTHS. 


her  perruque  and  her  papelitos,  had  said  all  that 
society  would  say.  She  had  been  wise,  and 
he,  in  a  passing  moment  of  sentiment,  a  fool. 
He  had  scarcely  really  considered  the  full 
meaning  of  his  own  words,  and  where  they 
would  have  led  him  had  they  been  taken 
seriously. 

He  thought  now  of  all  the  letters  lying  in 
those  cabinets  and  caskets  at  Paris. 

'  What  a  burnt-sacrifice  of  notepaper  I 
should  have  had  to  make  ! '  he  said  to  himself, 
and  smoked  a  little,  and  tried  to  ridicule  himself. 

Was  he,  Correze,  the  lover  of  great  rulers  of 
society,  the  hero  of  a  hundred  and  a  thousand 
intrigues  and  romances,  in  love  with  a  mere 
child,  because  she  had  serious  eyes  and  no 
shoes  and  stockings?  bewitched  by  a  young 
girl  who  had  sat  half  an  hour  beside  him  by  a 
sweetbriar  hedge  on  a  cliff  by  the  sea  ?  It  was 
too  absurd. 

From  Baden  there  had  come  an  impatient 
summons  from  a  dark-haired  duchess  of  the 
Second  Empire,  who  fancied  that  she  reigned 
over  his  life  because  he  reigned  over  hers  like 


MOTHS.  139 


a  fatality,  an  imperious  and  proud  woman 
whom  the  lamps  in  the  Avenue  Marigny  had 
shone  on  as  she  stole  on  foot,  muffled  and 
veiled,  to  hide  her  burning  face  on  his  breast; 
he  thought  of  her  where  she  was  waiting  for 
him,  and  a  little  shudder  of  disgust  went  over 
him. 

He  threw  open  the  window  of  his  bed 
carriage,  and  leaned  his  head  out,  to  meet  the 
midnight  wind. 

The  train  was  passing  a  little  village,  a  few 
cottages,  a  pond,  a  mill,  a  group  of  willows 
silvery  in  the  starlight.  From  the  little  green 
gardens  there  came  a  scent  of  sweetbriar  and 
hedge  roses. 

'Shall  I  smell  that  smell  all  my  life?'  he 
thought  impatiently. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Lady  Dolly  had  a  very  dear  friend.  Of  course 
she  had  five  hundred  dear  friends,  but  this  one 
she  was  really  fond  of;  that  is  to  say,  she  never 
said  anything  bad  of  her,  and  only  laughed  at 
her  goodnaturedly  when  she  had  left  a  room ; 
and  this  abstinence  is  as  strong  a  mark  of  sin- 
cerity nowadays,  as  dying  for  another  used  to 
be  in  tlie  old  days  of  strong  feelings  and  the 
foolish  expression  of  them. 

This  friend  was  her  dear  Adine,  otherwise 
Lady  Stoat  of  Stitchley,  who  had  just  won  the 
honour  of  the  past  year's  season  by  marrying 
her  daughter  (a  beauty)  to  a  young  marquis, 
who,  with  the  small  exceptions   of  being  a 


MOTHS.  141 


drunkard,  a  fool,  and  a  brute,  was  everything 
that  a  mother's  soul  could  desire ;  and  all  the 
mothers'  souls  in  the  great  world  had  accord- 
ingly burned  for  him  passionately,  and  Lady 
Stoat  had  won  him. 

Lady  Stoat  was  as  much  revered  as  a 
maternal  model  of  excellence  in  her  time  as 
the  mother  of  the  Gracchi  in  hers.  She  was  a 
gentle-looking  woman,  with  a  very  soft  voice, 
which  she  never  raised  under  any  provocation. 
She  had  a  will  of  steel,  but  she  made  it  look 
like  a  blossoming  and  pliant  reed;  she  was 
very  religious  and  strongly  ritualistic. 

When  Lady  Dolly  awoke  the  next  morning, 
with  the  vague  remembrance  of  something  very 
unpleasant  having  happened  to  her,  it  was  to 
this  friend  that  she  fled  for  advice  as  soon  as 
she  was  dressed ;  having  for  that  purpose  to 
drive  over  to  Deauville,  where  Lady  Stoat,  who 
thought  Trouville  vulgar,  had  a  charming  little 
place,  castellated,  coquettish,  Gothic,  Chinese, 
Moorish,  all  kinds  of  things,  in  a  pretty  pell- 
mell  of  bonbon-box  architecture,  set  in  a  frame 
of  green  turf  and   laurel  hedges  and  round- 


142  MOTHS, 


headed  acacias,  and  with  blazing  geranium 
beds  underneath  its  gilded  balconies  and  mar- 
queterie  doors.  Ladj  Dolly  had  herself  driven 
over  in  the  Due  de  Dinant's  ])anier  with  his 
four  ponies,  and  while  he  went  to  find  out  some 
friends  and  arrange  the  coming  races,  she  took 
her  own  road  to  the  Maison  Perle. 

'Adine  always  knows,'  she  thought.  She 
was  really  fond  of  her  Adine,  who  was  many 
years  older  than  herself.  Bat  for  her  Adine, 
certain  little  bits  of  nonsense  -and  imprudence 
in  Lady  Dolly's  feverish  little  life  might  have 
made  people  talk,  and  given  trouble  to  Mr. 
Vanderdecken,  absorbed  as  he  might  be  in 
Java,  Japan,  or  Jupiter. 

Lady  Stoat  of  Stitch  ley  was  one  of  those 
invaluable  characters  who  love  to  do  good  for 
good's  own  sake,  and  to  set  things  straight  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  being  occupied.  As  some 
persons  of  an  old-maidish  or  old-bachelor  turn 
of  mind  will  go  far  out  of  their  way  to  smoothe 
a  crease  or  remove  a  crumb,  though  neither  be 
marring  their  own  property,  so  would  Lady 
Stoat  go   far  out  of  her  way  to  prevent  a 


MOTHS.  143 


scandal,  reconcile  two  enemies,  or  clear  a 
tangled  path.  It  was  her  way  of  amusing  her- 
self. She  had  a  genius  for  management.  She 
was  a  clever  tactician,  and  her  tactics  in- 
terested her,  and  employed  her  time  agreeably. 
If  anyone  in  her  world  wanted  a  marriage  ar- 
ranged, a  folly  prevented,  a  disgrace  concealed, 
or  a  refractory  child  brought  to  reason.  Lady 
Stoat  of  Stitchley  would  do  it  in  the  very  best 
possible  manner. 

'  It  is  only  my  duty,'  she  would  say  in  her 
hushed  melodious  monotonous  voice,  and  nearly 
everybody  thought  Lady  Stoat  the  modern 
substitute  of  a  saint  on  earth. 

To  this  saint  now  went  Lady  Dolly  with  her 
troubles  and  her  tale. 

'  What  can  I  do  with  her,  dearest  ? '  she 
cried  plaintively,  in  the  pretty  little  morning 
room,  whose  windows  looked  over  the  geranium 
beds  to  the  grey  sea. 

Lady  Stoat  was  doing  crewel  work  -,  a  pale, 
slight,  gracefully  made  woman  with  small 
straight  features,  and  the  very  sweetest  and 
saddest  of  smiles. 


144  MOTHS, 


*  What  young  men  are  there  ?  '  said  Lady 
Stoat,  now  in  response,  still  intent  on  her  crewel 
work.  '  I  have  not  thought  about  them  at  all  since 
the  happiness  of  my  own  treasure  was  secured. 
By  the  bye,  I  heard  from  Gwen  this  morning ; 
she  tells  me  she  has  hopes — Our  Mother  in 
heaven  has  heard  my  prayers.  Imagine,  love, 
my  becoming  a  grandmama !  It  is  what  I 
long  so  for  ! — ^just  a  silly  old  grandmama  spoil- 
ing all  her  pets !  I  feel  I  was  born  to  be  a 
grandmama ! ' 

'  I  am  so  glad,  how  very  charming  ! '  mur- 
mured Lady  Dolly,  vaguely  and  quite  in- 
different. '  I  am  so  terribly  afraid  Vere 
won't  please,  and  I  am  so  afraid  of  this  affair 
with  Correze.' 

'What  affair?  with  whom?'  asked  Lady 
Stoat  of  Stichley,  waking  from  her  dreams  of 
being  a  grandmama. 

Whereon  she  told  it,  making  it  look  very 
odd  and  very  bad  indeed,  in  the  unconscious 
exaggeration  which  accompanied  Lady  Dolly's 
talk,  as  inevitably  as  a  great  streak  of  foam 
precedes  and  follows  the  track  of  a  steamer. 


MOTHS.  145 


Lady  Stoat  was  rather  amused  than 
shocked. 

'  It  is  very  like  Correze,  and  he  is  the  most 
dangerous  man  in  the  world ;  everybody  is  in 
love  with  him ;  Gwendolen  was,  but  all  that  is 
nothing ;  it  is  not  as  if  he  were  one  of  us.' 

'  He  is  one  of  us  !     He  goes  everywhere  ! ' 

'Oh!  goes! — well;  that  is  because  people 
like  to  ask  him — society  is  a  pigstye — but  all 
that  does  not  alter  his  being  a  singer.' 

*  He  is  a  marquis,  you  know,  they  say  !  ' 

'AU  singers  are  marquises,  if  you  like  to 
believe  them.  My  dear  Dolly,  you  cannot 
be  serious  in  being  afraid  of  Correze?  If 
you  are,  all  the  more  reason  to  marry  her  at 
once.' 

'  She  is  not  the  style  that  anybody  likes  at 
all  nowadays,'  replied  Lady  Dolly,  in  a  sort  of 
despair.  '  She  is  not  the  style  of  the  day  at  aU, 
you  know.  She  has  great  natural  distinction, 
but  I  don't  think  people  care  for  that,  and  they 
like  chien.  She  will  always  look  like  a  gentle- 
woman, and  they  like  us  best  when  we  don't. 
I  have  a  conviction  that  men  will  be  afraid  of 
VOL.  I.  L 


U6  MOTm. 


her.  Is  there  any  thing  more  fatal  ?  Vere  will 
never  look  like  a  helle  'petite,  in  a  tea-gown,  and 
smoke,  never  !  She  has  gone  a  hundred  years 
back,  being  brought  up  by  that  horrid  old 
woman.  You  could  fancy  her  going  to  be 
guillotined  in  old  lace  like  Marie-Antoinette. 
What  can  I  do?' 

'  Keep  her  with  you  six  months,  dear,'  said 
the  friend,  who  was  a  woman  of  some  humour. 
'  And  I  don't  think  poor  Ma^rie- Antoinette  had 
any  lace  left  to  wear.' 

'  Of  course  I  must  keep  her  with  me,'  said 
Lady  Dolly  with  exasperation,  who  was  not  a 
woman  of  humour,  and  who  did  not  see  the 
jest. 

Lady  Stoat  reflected  a  moment.  She  liked 
arranging  things,  whether  they  closely  con- 
cerned her  or  not. 

'  There  is  the  Chambree's  son  ? '  she  said 
hesitatingly. 

'  I  know !  But  they  will  want  such  a  dower, 
and  Yere  has  nothing— nothing !  ' 

*  But  if  she  be  a  beauty  ?' 

'  She  will  be   beautiful ;    she  won't  be  a 


MOTHS.  147 


beauty  ;  not  in  the  way  men  like  now.     She 
will  always  look  cold.' 

'  Do  they  dislike  that  ?  Not  in  their  wives 
I  think ;  my  Gwen  looks  very  cold/  said  her 
friend  ;  then  added  with  an  innocent  impassive- 
ness,  'You  might  marry  her  to  Jura.' 

Lady  Dolly  laughed  and  coloured. 

'  Poor  Jack !  He  hates  the  very  idea  of 
marriage  ;  I  don't  think  he  will  ever ' 

'  They  all  hate  it,'  said  Lady  Stoat  tran- 
quilly. '  But  they  do  it  when  they  are  men  of 
position  ;  Jura  will  do  it  like  the  rest.  What 
do  you  think  of  Serge  Zouroff  ?  ' 

Lady  Dolly  this  time  did  not  laugh;  she 
turned  white  underneath  Fiver's  bloom ;  her 
pretty  sparkling  eyes  glanced  uneasily. 

'  Zouroff ! '  she  repeated  vaguely, '  Zouroff ! ' 

'  I  think  I  should  try,'  answered  Lady  Stoat 
calmly.  '  Yes ;  I  do  think  I  should  try.  By 
the  way,  take  her  to  Felicite ;  you  are  going 
there,  are  you  not  ?  It  would  be  a  great  thing 
for  you,  dear,  to  marry  her  this  year;  you 
would  find  it  such  a  bore  in  the  seaso;n  ;  don't 
I  know  what  it  is  !  And  for  you  ^  so  young  as 
l3 


148  MOTHS. 


you  are,  to  go  to  balls  with  a  demoiselle  a 
marier ! — my  poor  little  puss,  you  would  die 
of  it.' 

'  I  am  sure  I  shall  as  it  is ! '  said  Lady 
Dolly;  and  her  nerves  gave  way,  and  she 
cried. 

'  Make  Zouroff  marry  her,'  said  Lady  Stoat 
soothingly,  as  if  she  were  pouring  out  drops  of 
chloral  for  a  fretful  child. 

^  Make  Zouroff ! '  echoed  Lady  Dolly,  with 
a  certain  intonation  that  led  Lady  Stoat  to  look 
at  her  quickly. 

'  Has  she  done  naughty  things  that  she  has 
not  told  me,'  thought  her  confidante.  '  No,  I 
do  not  fancy  so.  Poor  little  pussy  !  she  is  too 
silly  not  to  be  transparent.' 

Aloud,  she  said  merely : 

^  Zouroff  is  middle-aged  now ;  Nadine  would 
be  glad  to  see  him  take  any  one ;  she  would  not 
oppose  it.  He  must  marry  some  time,  and  I 
don't  know  anybody  else  so  good  as  he.' 

^  Good ! '  ejaculated  Lady  Dolly  faintly. 
She  wa;?  ^till  startled  and  agitated,  and  strove 
to  hide  thai  "^^he  was  so.    '  Vere  would  never,' 


\ 


MOTHS.  149 


she  murmured ;  '  you  don't  know  her ;  she  is  the 
most  dreadful  child ' 

*You  must  bring  her  to  me,'  said  Lady 
Stoat. 

She  was  very  successful  with  girls.  She 
never  scolded  them ;  she  never  ridiculed  them  ; 
she  only  influenced  them  in  a  gentle,  imper- 
ceptible, sure  way  that,  little  by  little,  made 
them  feel  that  love  and  honour  were  silly 
things,  and  that  all  that  really  mattered  was 
to  have  rank  and  to  be  rich,  and  to  be  envied 
by  others. 

Lady  Stoat  never  said  this;  never  said, 
indeed,  anything  approaching  it,  but  all  girls 
that  she  took  any  pains  with  learned  it  by 
heart,  nevertheless,  as  the  gospel  of  their  gene- 
ration. 

It  was  her  own  religion ;  she  only  taught 
what  she  honestly  believed. 

A  little  comforted.  Lady  Dolly  left  her 
calming  presence;  met  her  little  duke  and 
breakfasted  with  him  merrily  at  an  hotel,  and 
drove  back  to  her  own  clidlet  to  dress  for  a 
dinner  at  the  Maison  Normande. 


160  MOTHS. 


The  doors  of  Felicite  would  not  open  until 
the  first  day  of  September,  and  there  were  still 
some  dozen  days  of  August  yet  to  pass,  and  on 
those  days  Vere  was  to  be  seen  occasionally 
by  her  mother's  side  on  the  beach,  and  in  the 
villas,  and  at  the  races  at  Deauville,  and  was 
clad  by  the  clever  directions  of  Adrienne  in 
charming,  youthful  dresses  as  simple  as  they 
were  elegant.  She  was  taken  to  the  Casino, 
where  the  high-born  young  girls  of  her  own 
age  read,  or  worked,  or  played  with  the 
^etits  chevaux ;  she  was  made  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  planks,  where  her  innocence  brushed 
the  shoulders  of  Casse-une-croute,  the  last  new 
villany  out  in  woman,  and  her  fair  cheeks  felt 
the  same  sunbeams  and  breeze  that  fell  on  all 
the  faded  jpeches  a  quinze  sous.  She  was  taken 
to  the  hal  des  hehes,  and  felfc  a  pang  that  was 
older  than  her  years  at  seeing  those  little 
frizzed  and  furbelowed  flirts  of  five,  and  those 
vain  little  simpering  dandies  of  three. 

'  Oh,  the  poor,  poor  little  children  !  '  she 
thought,  '  they  will  never  know  what  it  is  to 
be  young ! ' 


MOTHS.  151 


She,  even  in  monastic  old  Bnlmer,  had 
been  left  a  free,  open-air,  natural,  honest  child's 
life.  Her  own  heart  here  was  oppressed  and 
lonely.  She  missed  her  faithful  old  friends ; 
she  took  no  pleasure  in  the  romp  and  racket 
that  was  round  her ;  she  understood  very  little 
of  all  that  she  saw,  but  the  mere  sight  of  it 
hurt  her.  Society,  to  this  untutored  child  of 
the  Northumbrian  moors,  looked  so  grotesque 
and  so  vulgar.  This  Trouville  mob  of  fine  ladies 
and  adventuresses,  princes  and  blacklegs,  minis- 
ters and  dentists,  reigning  sovereigns  and 
queens  of  the  theatres,  seemed  to  her  a  Satur- 
nalia of  Folly,  and  its  laugh  hurt  her  more 
than  a  blow  would  have  done. 

Her  mother  took  her  out  but  little,  and  the 
less  that  she  went  the  less  troubled  she  was. 
That  great  mass  of  varicoloured,  noisy  life,  so 
pretty  as  a  spectacle,  but  so  deplorable  as  hu- 
manity, dismayed  and  offended  her.  She  heard 
that  these  ladies  of  Deauville,  with  their  painted 
brows,  their  high  voices,  their  shrill  laughter, 
their  rickety  heels,  were  some  of  the  greatest 
ladies  of  Europe;   but,  to  the  proud  temper 


152  MOTHS. 


and  the  delicate  taste  of  the  child,  they  seemed 
loathsome. 

'  You  are  utterly  unsympathetic ! '  said  her 
mother,  disgusted,  '  frightfully  unsympathetic ! 
You  are  guindee,  positive,  puritan  !  You  have 
not  a  grain  of  adaptability.  I  read  the  other 
day  somewhere  that  Madame  Eecamier,  who 
was  always  called  the  greatest  beauty  of  our 
great-grandmothers'  times,  was  really  nothing 
at  all  to  look  at — quite  ordinary;  but  she  did 
smile  so  in  everybody's  face,  and  listen  so  to 
all  the  bores,  that  the  world  pronounced  her  a 
second  Helen.  As  for  you — handsome  though 
you  are,  and  you  really  are  quite  beautiful  they 
say — you  look  so  scornful  of  everything,  and  so 
indignant  at  any  little  nonsense,  that  I  should 
not  wonder  in  the  least  if  you  never  even  got 
called  a  beauty  at  all.' 

Lady  Dolly  paused  to  see  the  effect  of  the 
most  terrible  prediction  that  it  was  in  female 
power  to  utter.  Vere  was  quite  unmoved  ;  she 
scarcely  heard. 

She  was  thinking  of  that  voice,  clear  as  the 
ring  of  gold,  which  had  said  to  her : 


MOTHS.  153 


'  Keep  yourself  unspotted  from  the  world.' 
^  If  the  world  is  nothing  better  than  this,  it 
must  be  very  easy  to  resist  it,'  she  thought  in 
her  ignorance. 

She  did  not  know  that  from  these  swamps 
of  flattery,  intrigue,  envy,  rivalry,  and  emula- 
tion there  rises  a  miasma  which  scarcely  the 
healthiest  lungs  can  withstand.  She  did  not 
know  that  though  many  may  be  indifferent  to 
the  tempting  of  men,  few  indeed  are  impene- 
trable to  the  sneer  and  the  smile  of  women  ; 
that  to  live  your  own  life  in  the  midst  of  the 
world  is  a  harder  thing  than  it  was  of  old  to 
withdraw  to  the  Thebaid  ;  that  to  risk  '  looking 
strange '  requires  a  courage  perhaps  cooler  and 
higher  than  the  soldier's  or  the  saint's;  and 
that  to  stand  away  from  the  contact  and  the 
custom  of  your  '  set '  is  a  harder  and  a  sterner 
work  than  it  was  of  old  to  go  into  the  sanctuary 
of  La  Trappe  or  Port  Eoyal. 

Autres  temps,  autres  moeurs — but  we  too  have 
our  martyrs. 

Felicite  was  a  seaside  chateau  of  the  Princes 
Zouroff,   which  they  had  bought  from  an  old 


154  M0TH8. 


decayed  Frencli  family,  and  had  transformed 
into  a  veritable  castle  of  fairy-land.  They  came 
to  it  for  about  three  months  in  as  many  years ; 
but  for  beauty  and  loveliness  it  had  no  equal, 
even  amongst  the  many  summer  holiday-houses 
scattered  up  and  down  the  green  coast,  from 
Etretat  to  the  Rochers  de  Calvados.  This  year  it 
was  full  of  people :  the  Princess  Nadine  Nela- 
guine  was  keeping  open  house  there  for  her 
brother  Sergius  Zouroff.  White- sailed  yachts 
anchored  in  its  bay;  chasseurs  in  green  and 
gold  beat  its  woods;  riding  parties  and  driving 
parties  made  its  avenues  bright  with  colour 
and  movement ;  groups  like  Watteau  pictures 
wandered  in  its  gardens;  there  was  a  little 
troupe  of  actors  from  Paris  for  its  theatre  ;  life 
went  like  a  song;  and  Serge  Zouroif  would 
have  infinitely  preferred  to  be  alone  with 
some  handsome  Tschigan  women  and  many 
flagons  of  brandy. 

Madame  Nelaguine  was  a  little  woman,  who 
wore  a  wig  that  had  little  pretence  about  it ; 
and  smoked  all  day  long,  and  read  saletes 
with  zest,  and  often  talked  them ;  yet  Madame 


MOTHS.  166 


Nelaguine  could  be  a  power  in  politics  when 
she  chose,  could  cover  herself  with  diamonds 
and  old  laces,  and  put  such  dignity  into  her 
tiny  person  that  she  once  crushed  into  utter 
nervousness  a  new-made  empress,  whom  she 
considered  varnish.  She  was  wonderfully  clever, 
wonderfully  learned ;  she  was  cunning,  and  she 
could  be  crael,  yet  she  had  in  her  own  way  a 
kind  heart ;  she  was  a  great  musician  and  a 
great  mathematician ;  she  had  been  an  ambas- 
sadress, and  had  distinguished  herself  at  great 
courts.  She  had  had  many  intrigues  of  all 
kinds,  but  had  never  been  compromised  by  any 
one  of  them.  She  was  considerably  older  than 
her  brother,  and  seldom  aj^proved  of  him. 

*  On  pent  se  dehaucher,  mats  on  doit  se 
debauclier  avec  de  resprit,'  she  would  say :  and 
the  modern  ways  of  vice  seemed  to  her  void  of 
wit.  '  You  are  not  even  amused,'  she  would 
add.  '  If  you  were  amused  one  could  compre- 
hend, but  you  are  not.  You  spend  your 
fortunes  on  creatures  that  you  do  not  even  like ; 
you  spend  your  nights  in  gambling  that  does 
not  even  excite  you ;   you  commit  vulgarities 


156  MOTHS 


that  do  not  even  divert  you,  only  because  every- 
body else  does  the  same ;  you  caricature 
monstrous  vices  so  that  you  make  even  those 
no  longer  terrible,  but  ridiculous ;  and  if  you 
fight  a  duel  you  manage  to  make  it  look 
absurd,  you  take  a  surgeon  with  you !  You  have 
no  passions.  It  is  passion  that  dignifies  life, 
and  you  do  not  know^  anything  about  it,  any  ox 
you;  you  know  only  infamy.  And  infamy  is 
always  so  dull ;  it  is  never  educated.  Why  do 
you  copy  Vitellius  ?  Because  you  have  not  the 
wit  to  be  either  Horace  or  Csesar.' 

But  Sergius  Zouroff  did  not  pay  any  heed 
to  his  cleverer  sister.  His  Uraline  mines,  his 
vast  plains  of  wheat,  his  forests  and  farms,  his 
salt  and  his  copper,  and  all  that  he  owned, 
were  treasures  well-nigh  inexhaustible,  and 
although  prodigal  he  was  shrewd.  He  was 
not  a  man  to  be  easily  ruined,  and,  as  long  as 
his  great  wealth  and  his  great  position  gave 
him  a  place  that  was  almost  royal  in  the  society 
of  Europe,  he  knew  very  w^ell  that  he  could 
copy  Vitellius  as  he  chose  without  drawing 
any  chastisement  on    him.      In  a  cold  and 


MOTHS.  157 


heavy  way  lie  had  talent,  and  with  that  talent 
he  contrived  to  indulge  all  excesses  in  any  vice 
that  tempted  him,  yet  remain  without  that 
social  stigma  that  has  marked  before  now 
princes  wholly  royal. 

'  Everywhere  they  are  glad  to  see  me,  and 
everybody  would  marry  me  to-morrow,'  he 
would  say,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  when 
his  sister  rebuked  him. 

To  Felicite  drove  Lady  Dolly  with  Vere  by 
her  side.  Vere  had  been  given  a  white  dress 
and  a  broad  hat  with  white  drooping  feathers  ; 
she  looked  very  pale,  her  mother  supposed  it 
was  with  excitement. 

She  thought  it  the  moment  to  offer  a  little 
maternal  advice.  *  Now,  dear,  this  will  be  quite 
going  into  the  world  for  you.  Do  remember 
one  or  two  things.  Do  try  to  look  less  grave ; 
men  hate  a  serious  woman.  And  if  you  want 
to  ask  anything,  don't  come  to  me,  because  I'm 
always  busy ;  ask  Adrienne  or  Lady  Stoat. 
You  have  seen  what  a  sweet  dear  motherly 
creature  she  is.  She  won't  mind  telling  you 
anything.     There  is  a  charming  girl  there,  too, 


168  MOTHS, 


an  American  heiress,  Fuscliia  Leach ;  a  horrible 
name,  but  a  lovely  creature,  and  very  clever. 
Watch  her  and  learn  all  you  can  from  her. 
Tout  Paris  lost  its  head  after  her  utterly  this 
last  winter.  She'll  marry  anybody  she  chooses. 
Pray  don't  make  me  ashamed  of  you.  Don't  be 
sensational,  don't  be  stupid,  don't  be  pedantic ; 
and,  for  mercy's  sake,  don't  make  any  scenes. 
Never  look  surprised ;  never  show  a  dislike  to 
anybody ;  never  seem  shocked,  if  you  feel  so. 
Be  civil  all  round,  it's  the  safest  way  in  society ; 
and  pray  don't  talk  about  mathematics  and  the 
Bible.  I  don't  know  that  there's  anything 
more  I  can  tell  you  :  you  must  find  it  all  out 
for  yourself.  The  world  is  like  whist,  reading 
can't  teach  it.  Try  not  to  blunder,  that's  all, 
and — do  watch  Fuschia  Leach.' 

'  Is  she  so  very  beautiful  and  good  ?  ' 
'  Good  ? '  echoed  Lady  Dolly,  desorientee  and 
impatient.  ^  I  don't  know,  I  am  sure.  No,  I 
shouldn't  think  she  was,  by  any  means.  She 
doesn't  go  in  for  that.  She  is  a  wonderful 
social  success,  and  men  rave  about  her.  That 
is    what    I    meant.     If    you  watch  her  she 


MOTHS.  159 


will  do  you  more  good  than  I  could  if  I  liad 
patience  to  talk  to  you  for  ever.  You  will  see 
what  the  girl  of  your  time  must  be  if  she  want 
to  please.' 

Yere's  beautiful  mouth  curled  contemptu- 
ously. 

'  I  do  not  want  to  please.' 

'  That  is  an  insane  remark/  said  LadyDoUy 
coldly.     *  If  you  don't,  what  do  you  live  for  ?  ' 

Yere  was  silent.  At  dark  old  Bulmer  she 
had  been  taught  that  there  were  many  other 
things  to  live  for,  but  she  was  afraid  to  say  so, 
lest  she  should  be  '  pedantic  '  again. 

'  That  is  just  the  sort  of  silly  thing  I  hate  to 
hear  a  girl  say,  or  a  woman  either.  Americans 
never  say  such  things,'  said  Lady  Dolly  with 
vivacious  scorn.  'It's  just  like  your  father, 
who  always  would  go  out  in  the  rain  when 
dinner  was  ready,  or  read  to  somebody  who 
had  the  scarlet  fever,  or  give  the  best  claret  to 
a  ploughboy  with  a  sore  throat.  It  is  silly ; 
it  is  unnatural.  You  should  want  to  please. 
Why  were  we  put  in  this  world  ?  ' 

*  To  make  others  happier,'  Yere  suggested 


160  MOTHS. 


timidly,  her  eyes  growing  dim  at  her  father's 
name. 

'  Did  it  make  me  happier  to  have  the 
scarlet  fever  brought  home  to  me  ? '  said  Lady 
Dolly,  irrelevantly  and  angrily.  '  That  is  just 
like  poor  Yere's  sort  of  illogical  reasonings ;  I 
remember  them  so  well.  You  are  exactly  like 
him.  I  despair  of  you,  I  quite  despair  of  you, 
unless  Fuschia  Leach  can  convert  you." 

'  Is  she  my  age  ?  ' 

'  A  year  or  two  older,  I  think ;  she  is  per- 
fect now;  at  five- and-t wen ty  she  will  be 
hideous,  but  she  will  dress  so  well  it  won't 
matter.  I  know  for  a  fact,  that  she  refused 
3-our  cousin.  Mull,  last  month.  She  was  very 
right;  he  is  awfully  poor.  Still,  she'd  have 
been  a  duchess,  and  her  father  kept  a  bar ;  so 
it  shows  you  what  she  can  do.' 

'What  is  a  bar?' 

'  Oh  !  pray  don't  keep  asking  me  questions 
like  that.  You  make  my  head  whirl.  A  bar 
is  where  they  sell  things  to  drink,  and  her 
brothers  have  a  great  pig-killing  place  "  down 
west,"  wherever  that  is.'  , . .  v^- 


MOTHS.  161 


'  And  she  refused  my  cousin  !  ' 

*  Dear,  yes !  This  is  the  charming  topsy- 
turvy world  we  live  in — you  will  get  used  to 
it,  my  dear.  They  made  a  fuss  because  a  tailor, 
got  to  court  last  year.  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know  why  they  did ;  if  he'd  been  an  American 
tailor  nobody'd  have  said  anything ;  they 
wouldn't  even  have  thought  it  odd.  All  the 
world  over  you  meet  them ;  they  get  in  the 
swim  somehow ;  they  have  such  heaps  of 
money,  and  their  women  know  how  to  wear 
things.  They  always  look  like — what  they 
shouldn't  look  like — to  be  sure ;  but  so  most  of 
us  do,  and  men  prefer  it.' 

Vere  understood  not  at  all ;  but  she  did  not 
venture  again  to  ask  for  an  explanation. 

Her  mother  yawned  and  brushed  the  flies 
away  pettishly,  and  called  to  Lord  Jura,  who 
was  riding  beside  their  carriage,  and  had  lagged 
a  trifle  behind  in  the  narrow  sandy  road  that 
ran  level  between  green  hedges.  The  high 
metal  roof  and  gilded  vanes  of  Felicite  were 
already  shining  above  the  low  rounded 
masses   of  distant   woods.     It   stood    on   the 

VOL.   I.  M 


162  MOTHS. 


sea-coast,  a  little  way  from  Villers-sur- 
Mer. 

Vere  did  not  understand  why  Lord  Jura 
always  went  with  them  as  naturally  as  the 
maids  did  and  the  dressing-boxes ;  but  he  was 
kind,  if  a  little  rough.  She  liked  him."  Only 
why  did  her  mother  call  him  Jack,  and  quarrel 
with  him  so,  and  yet  want  him  always  with  her  ? 

Vere  thought  about  it  dimly,  vaguely,  per- 
plexedly, especially  when  she  saw  the  frank, 
blue  eyes  of  Jura  looking  at  herself,  hard,  and 
long,  with  a  certain  sadness  and  impatience  in 
the  gaze,  as  if  he  pitied  her. 

The  reception  at  Felicite  seemed  to  Vere  to 
be  a  whirl  of  bright  hues,  pretty  faces,  and 
amiable  words.  The  Princess  Nadine  Nelaguine 
was  out  on  the  terrace  with  her  guests,  and  the 
Princess  kissed  her  with  effusion,  and  told  her 
she  was  like  a  Gainsborough  picture.  The 
Princess  herself  was  a  fairy-like  little  woman, 
with  a  bright  odd  Calmuck  face  and  two  little 
brown  eyes  as  bright  as  a  marmoset's.  Vere 
was  presented  to  so  many  people  that  she  could 
not  tell  one  from  another,  and  she  was  glad  to 


MOTHS. 


be  left  in  her  room  while  her  mother,  having 
got  into  a  wonderful  gold-embroidered  Watteau 
sacque  that  she  called  a  tea-gown,  went  to  rejoin 
the  other  ladies  amongst  the  roses  and  the 
perfumes,  and  the  late  afternoon  light. 

When  Vere  herself,  three  hours  later,  was 
dressed  for  dinner,  and  told  to  tap  at  her 
mother's  door,  she  did  not  feel  nervous,  because 
it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  be  easily  made  so, 
but  she  felt  oppressed  and  yet  curious. 

She  was  going  into  the  world. 

And  the  counsels  of  Correze  hannted  her. 

Lady  Dolly  said  sharply,  '  Come  in ! '  and 
Vere  entering,  beheld  her  mother  for  the  first 
time  in  full  war-paint  and  panoply. 

Lady  Dolly  looked  sixteen  herself.  She  was 
exquisitely  painted;  she  had  a  gown  cut  en 
coeiir  which  was  as  indecent  as  the  heart  of 
woman  could  desire;  jewels  sparkled  all  over 
her ;  she  was  a  triumph  of  art,  and  looked  as 
exactly  like  Colifichet  of  the  Bonffes  in  her  last 
new  piece,  as  even  her  own  soul  could  aspire  to 
do. 

'  What  are  you  staring  at  child  ? '  she  asked 

m2 


164  MOTHS. 


of  Vere,  who  had  turned  rather  pale.     '  Don't 
you  think  I  look  well  ?     What  is  the  matter  ? ' 

'  Nothing/  said  Vere,  who  could  not  answer 
that  it  hurt  her  to  see  so  much  of  her  mother's 
anatomy  unveiled. 

'  You  look  as  if  you  saw  a  ghost/  said  Lady 
Dolly  impatiently ;  '  you  have  such  a  horrid 
way  of  staring.     Come ! ' 

Vere  went  silently  by  her  side  down  the 
wide  staircase,  lighted  by  black  marble  negroes 
holding  golden  torches.  After  the  silence,  the 
stillness,  the  gloom,  of  her  Northumbrian  home, 
with  the  old  servants  moving  slowly  through 
the  dim  oak-pannelled  passages,  the  brilliance, 
the  luxury,  the  glittering  lustre,  the  va  et  vient 
of  Felicite  seemed  like  a  gorgeous  spectacle. 
She  would  have  liked  to  have  stood  on  that 
grand  staircase,  amongst  the  hothouse  flowers, 
and  looked  on  it  all  as  on  a  pageant.  But  her 
mother  swept  on  into  the  drawing-rooms,  and 
Vere  heard  a  little  murmur  of  admiration,  which 
she  did  not  dream  was  for  herself. 

Lady  Dolly  in  her  way  was  an  artist,  and 
she  had  known  the  right  thing  to  do  when  she 


MOTHS.  166 


had  had  Vere  clad  in  white  cachemire,  with  an 
old  silver  girdle  of  German  work,  and  in  the 
coils  of  her  hair  a  single  silver  arrow. 

Vere  was  perfect  in  her  stately,  serious,  yet 
childlike  grace ;  and  the  women  watching  her 
enter  felt  a  pang  of  envy. 

Sergius  ZourofP,  her  host,  advancing,  mur- 
mured a  ^  divinement  belle ! '  and  Lady  Stoat, 
watching  from  a  distant  sofa,  thought  to  herself 
*  What  a  lovely  creature  !  really  it  is  trying  for 
poor  little  pussy.' 

Vere  went  in  to  her  first  great  dinner.  She 
said  little  or  nothing.  She  listened  and  won- 
dered. Where  she  sat  she  could  not  see  her 
mother  nor  anyone  she  knew.  The  young 
French  diplomatist  who  took  her  in  tried  to 
make  himself  agreeable  to  her,  but  she  replied 
by  monosyllables.  He  thought  how  stupid 
these  lovely  ingenues  always  were.  He  had  not 
the  open  sesame  of  Correze  to  the  young  mute 
soul. 

Dinner  over.  Lady  Stoat  took  possession  of 
her  in  the  charming  motherly  affectionate  way 
for  which  she  was  celebrated  with  young  girls. 


J.66  MOTHS. 


But  even  Lady  Stoat  did  not  make  mucb.  way 
with  lier ;  Vere's  large  serious  eyes  were  calmly 
watching  everything. 

'  Will  you  show  me  which  is  Miss  Leach  ?  ' 
she  said  suddenly.  Lady  Stoat  laughed  and 
pointed  discreetly  with  a  fan. 

'  Who  has  told  you  about  Fuschia  Leach  ?  * 
she  said  amusedly.  '  I  will  make  you  known 
to  her  presently ;  she  may  be  of  use  to  you.' 

Vere's  eyes,  grave  as  a  child's  awakened  out 
of  sleep  into  the  glare  of  gas,  fastened  where 
her  fan  had  pointed,  and  studied  Miss  Leach. 
She  saw  a  very  lovely  person  of  transparent 
colouring,  of  very  small  features,  of  very  slight 
form,  with  a  skin  like  delicate  porcelain,  an 
artistic  tangle  of  artistically  coloured  red  gold 
hair,  a  tiny  impertinent  nose,  and  a  wonderful 
expression  of  mingled  impudence,  shrewdness, 
audacity  and  resolution.  This  person  had  her 
feet,  on  an  ottoman,  her  hands  behind  her  head, 
a  rosebud  in  her  mouth,  and  a  male  group 
around  her. 

'  I  shall  not  like  her;  I  do  not  wish  to  know 
her,'  said  Vere  slowly. 


MOTHS,  167 


'  My  dear,  do  not  say  so/  said  Lady  Stoat. 
'It  will  sound  like  jealousy,  yon  know — one 
pretty  girl  of  another ' 

•  She  is  not  a  lady,'  said  Vere  once  more. 

'There  you  are  right,'  said  Lady  Stoat. 
'  Very  few  people  are,  my  love,  nowadays.  But 
that  is  just  the  sort  of  thing  you  must  not  say. 
It  will  get  quoted  against  you,  and  make  you, 
make  you—oh  !  such  enemies,  my  love  ! ' 

'  Does  it  matter  ?  '  said  Vere  dreamily.  She 
was  wondering  what  Correze  would  have  thought 
or  did  think  of  Miss  Fuschia  Leach. 

'  Does  it  matter  to  have  enemies  ! '  echoed 
Lady  Stoat.  '  Oh,  my  sweet  Vere  !  does  it 
matter  whether  there  is  a  pin  sticking  into  one 
all  day  ?  A  pin  is  a  very  little  thing,  no  doubt, 
but  it  makes  all  the  difference  between  comfort 
and  discomfort  ? ' 

'  She  is  not  a  lady,'  said  Vere  again  with  a 
passing  frown  on  her  pretty  brows. 

'  Oh,  my  dear !  if  you  wait  for  that ! '  Lady 
Stoat's  smile  expressed  that  if  she  did  wait  for 
that  she  would  be  more  exacting  than  society. 
*  As  for  not  kno^ving  her — nonsense — you  must 


168  MOTHS. 


not  object  to  anybody  who  is  in  the  same 
house-party  with  yourself.' 

'She  is  extremely  pretty,'  added  Lady  Stoat. 
*  Those  American  girls  so  very  often  are ;  but 
they  are  all  like  the  ;poupees  de  modiste.  The 
very  best  of  them  are  only  very  perfect  like- 
nesses of  the  young  ladies  that  try  the  confec- 
tions on  for  us  at  Pingat's  or  Worth's,  and  the 
dress  has  always  a  sort  of  look  of  being  the  first 
toilette  they  ever  had.  I  don't  know  why,  for 
I  hear  they  dress  extremely  well  over  there,  and 
should  be  used  to  it,  but  it  has  that  look,  and 
they  never  get  rid  of  it.  No,  my  dear,  no ;  you 
are  right.  Those  new  people  are  not  gentle- 
women any  more  than  men's  modern  manners 
are  like  the  Broad  Stone  of  Honour,  But  do 
not  say  so.  They  will  repeat  it,  and  it  will  not 
sound  kind,  and  unless  you  can  say  what  is  kind, 
never  say  anything.' 

'  I  would  rather  have  anyone  I  did  not  re- 
spect for  an  enemy  than  for  a  friend,'  said  Vere 
with  a  child's  obstinacy.     Lady  Stoat  smiled. 

'  Phrases  my  love  ! — phrases  !  you  have  so 
much  to  learn,  my  child,  as  yet.' 


MOTHS.  169 


'  I  will  not  learn  of  Miss  Leach.' 

'  Well,  I  do  not  admire  her  very  much 
myself.  But  then  I  belong  to  an  old  school, 
you  know.  I  am  an  old  woman,  and  have 
prejudices,'  said  Lady  Stoat  sweetly.  'Miss 
Leach  has  the  world  at  her  foot,  and  it  amuses 
her  to  kick  it  about  like  a  tennis  ball,  and  show 
her  ankles.  I  daresay  you  will  do  the  same, 
love,  in  another  six  months,  only  you  will  not 
show  your  ankles.  All  the  difference  will  be 
there.' 

And  then  Lady  Stoat,  who  though  she 
called  herself  an  old  woman  would  have  been 
extremely  angry  if  anybody  else  had  called  her 
so,  thought  she  had  done  enough  for  once  for 
poor  little  pussy's  daughter,  and  turned  to  her 
own  little  mild  flirtations  with  a  bald  and  be- 
ribboned  ambassador. 

Vere  was  left  alone,  to  look  and  muse. 

Men  glanced  at  her  and  said  what  a  lovely 
child  she  was ;  but  they  kept  aloof  from  her. 
They  were  afraid  of  an  ingenue,  and  there  was 
Fuschia  Leach,  whose  laughter  was  ringing  up 
to  the  chandeliers  and  out  to  the  conservatories 


370  MOTHS. 


— Fuscliia  Leach,  who  had  never  been  an 
ingenue,  but  a  coquette  at  three  years  old,  and 
a  woman  of  the  world  at  six. 

Jura  alone  came  up  and  seated  himself  by 
Vere. 

'  How  do  you  like  it  ?  '  he  said  with  an  odd 
little  smile. 

'It  is  very  pretty  to  look  at,'  answered 
Vere. 

'  Ah,  to  be  sure.  As  good  as  a  play  when 
you're  new  to  it,  and  awfully  like  a  treadmill 
when  you're  not.  What  do  you  think  of 
Euschia  Leach  ?  ' 

Yere  remembered  Lady  Stoat's  warning, 
and  answered  merely : 

'  I  think  she  is  handsome.' 

'  I  believe  you ;  she  threw  over  your  cousin 
Mull,  as  if  he  were  dirty  boots ;  so  she  does 
heaps  of  them.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  my- 
self; I  think  it  is  her  cheek.  I  always  tell 
Dolly  so — I  beg  your  pardon — I  mean  your 
mother.' 

Vere  had  heard  him  say  '  Dolly '  very  often, 
and  did  not  know  why  he  apologised. 


MOTHS.  171 


'  My  mother  admires  her  ?  '  she  said  with 
a  little  interrogation  in  her  voice.  Jura 
laughed. 

'Or  says  she  does.  Women  always  say 
they  admire  a  reigning  beauty.  It  1  joks  well, 
you  know.  They  all  swear  Mrs.  Dawtry  is 
divine,  and  I'm  sure  in  their  hearts  they  think 
her  rather  ugly  than  otherwise.' 

'  Who  is  Mrs.  Dawtry  ?  ' 

'Don't  you  know?  Good  heavens!  But, 
of  course,  you  don't  know  anything  of  our 
world.  It's  a  pity  you  ever  should.  Touch 
pitch — what  is  it  the  old  saw  says?  ' 

It  was  the  regret  of  Correze,  differently 
worded. 

'  But  the  world,  as  you  call  it,  means  men 
and  women  ?  It  must  be  what  they  make  it. 
They  might  make  it  good  if  they  wished,'  said 
Yere  with  the  seriousness  that  her  mother 
detested. 

'  But  they  don't  wish,  you  see.  That  is  it,' 
said  Jura  with  a  sigh.  '  I  don't  know  how  it 
is,  when  once  you  are  in  the  swim  you  can't 
alter  things ;  you  must  just  go  along  with  the 


172  MOTHS. 


rest.  One  does  heaps  of  things  one  hates  only 
because  others  do  them.' 

'  That  is  very  contemptible/  said  Vere,  with 
the  disdain  that  became  her  very  well  coming 
on  her  pretty  proud  mouth. 

'I  think  we  are  contemptible,'  said  Jura 
moodily;  and  to  so  frank  a  confession  there 
was  no  reply  or  retort  possible,  Yere  thought. 

'  It  is  strange ;  he  said  much  the  same,' 
she  murmured,  half  aloud.  '  Only  he  said  it 
like  a  poet,  and  you — speak  in  such  an  odd 
way.' 

'  How  do  I  speak  ? '  asked  Jura  amused. 

^  You  speak  as  if  words  cost  too  much,  and 
you  were  obliged  to  use  as  few  and  choose  as 
bald  ones  as  you  could  find ;  English  is  such 
a  beautiful  language,  if  you  read  Milton  or 
Jeremy  Taylor,  or  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  or 
any  of  the  old  divines  and  dramatists ' 

She  stopped,  because  Jura  laughed. 

'  Divines  and  dramatists  !  My  dear  child, 
we  know  nothing  about  such  things ;  we  have 
St.  Albans  and  French  adaptations ;  they're  our 
reading  of  divinity  and  the  drama.     Who  was 


MOTHS.  173 


"  he "   that  talked  like  a  poet   while   I  talk 
like  a  sweep  ? ' 

'  I  did  not  say  you  talked  like  a  sweep — 
and  I  meant  the  Marquis  de  Correze.' 

'  Oh  !  your  singer  ?  Don't  call  him  a  Mar- 
quis.    He  is  the  prince  of  tenors,  that's  all.' 

'He  is  a  Marquis,'  said  Vere,  with  a  cer- 
tain coldness.  '  They  were  a  very  great  race. 
You  can  see  all  about  it  in  the  "  Livre  d'Or  " 
of  Savoy ;  they  were  like  the  Marquises  Costa 
de  Beauregard,  who  lost  everything  in  'ninety- 
two.  You  must  have  read  M.  de  Beauregard's 
beautiful  book,  Tin  homme  d'' autrefois  ?  ' 

^  Never  heard  of  it.  Did  the  tenor  tell  you 
all  that  rubbish  ?  ' 

'  Where  is  mamma,  Lord  Jura  ?  '  said  Vere. 
'  1  am  tired  of  sitting  here.' 

'That's  a  facer,'  thought  Jura.  'And,  by 
Jove,  very  well  given  for  such  a  baby.  I  beg 
your  pardon,'  he  said  aloud.  '  Correze  shall 
be  a  prince  of  the  blood,  if  you  wish.  Your 
mother  is  over  there;  but  I  doubt  if  she'll 
thank  you  to  go  to  her ;  she's  in  the  thick  of 
it  with  them ;  look.' 


174  MOTHS. 


He  meant  that  Lady  Dolly  was  flirting 
very  desperately,  and  enjoying  herself  very 
thoroughly,  having  nearly  as  many  men  about 
her  as  Miss  Fuschia  Leach. 

Vere  looked,  and  her  eyes  clouded. 

^  Then  I  think  I  may  go  to  bed.  She  will 
not  miss  me.     Good- night.' 

'No,  she  won't  miss  you.  Perhaps  other 
people  will.' 

'  There  is  no  one  I  know,  so  how  can  they  ? ' 
said  Vere  innocently,  and  rose  to  go ;  but 
Sergius  ZourofF,  who  had  approached  in  the 
last  moment,  barred  her  passage  with  a  smiling 
deference. 

'Your  host  will,  Mademoiselle  Herbert. 
Does  my  poor  house  weary  you,  that  you  think 
of  your  own  room  at  ten  o'clock.' 

'  I  always  go  to  bed  at  ten,  monsieur,'  said 
Vere.     ^  It  is  nothing  new  for  me.' 

'  Let  me  show  you  my  flowers  first,'  at  last 
said  Prince  Zouroff.  '  You  know  we  Eussians^ 
born  amidst  snow  and  ice,  have  a  passion  for 
tropical  houses ;  will  you  not  come  ?  ' 

He  held  out  his  arm  as  he  spoke.     Would 


MOTHS.  175 


it  be  rude  to  refuse?  Yere  did  not  know. 
She  was  afraid  it  would,  as  he  was  her  host. 

She  laid  her  fingers  hesitatingly  on  his 
offered  arm,  and  was  led  through  the  rooms  by- 
Prince  Zouroff. 

Fuschia  Leach  took  her  hands  from  behind 
her  head,  and  stared ;  Lady  Dolly  would  have 
turned  pale,  if  she  had  not  been  so  well 
painted ;  Lady  Stoat  put  her  eye-glass  up,  and 
smiled. 

Prince  Zouroff  had  a  horror  of  unmarried 
women,  and  never  had  been  known  to  pay  any 
sort  of  attention  to  one,  not  even  to  his  sister's 
guest,  Fuschia  Leach  the  irresistible. 

Prince  Zouroff  was  a  tall  large  man  of 
seven  and  thirty ;  loosely  built,  and  plain  of 
feature.  He  had  all  the  vices,  and  had  them 
all  in  excess,  but  he  was  a  very  polished  gen- 
tleman when  he  chose  -,  and  he  was  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  Europe,  and  his  family,  of 
which  he  was  the  head,  was  very  near  the 
throne,  in  rank  and  influence ;  for  twenty  years, 
ever  since  he  had  left  the  imperial  Corps  de 
Pages,  and  shown  himself  in  Paris,  driving  his 


176  MOTHS. 


team  of  black  Orlofs,  lie  had  been  the  idola- 
try, the  aspiration,  and  the  despair  of  all  the 
mothers  of  maidens. 

Yere's  passage  through  his  drawing-rooms 
on  his  arm  was  a  spectacle  so  astonishing, 
that  there  was  a  general  lull  for  a  moment  in 
the  conversation  of  all  his  guests.  It  was  a 
triumph,  but  Vere  was  wholly  unconscious  of 
it;  which  made  her  charming  in  the  eyes  of 
the  giver  of  it. 

'  I  think  that's  a  case  ! '  said  Miss  Fuschia 
Leach  to  her  admirers.  She  did  not  care 
herself.  She  did  not  want  Zouroff,  high,  and 
mighty,  and  rich,  and  of  great  fashion  though  he 
was ;  she  meant  to  die  an  English  duchess,  and 
she  had  only  thrown  over  the  unhappy  Mull 
because  she  had  found  out  he  was  poor.  '  And 
what's  the  use  of  being  a  duchess,  if  you  don't 
make  a  splash  ? '  she  said  very  sensibly  to  his 
mother,  when  they  talked  it  over.  She  had 
flirted  with  Mull  shamelessly,  but  so  she  did 
with  scores  of  them ;  it  was  her  way.  She  had 
brought  the  way  from  America.  She  had 
young  men  about  her  as  naturally  as  a  rat- 


MOTHS,  177 


catcher  has  ferrets  and  terriers  ;  but  she  meant 
to  take  her  time  before  choosing  one  of  them 
for  good  and  all. 

'  What  a  beautiful  child  she  is,'  thought 
Prince  Zouroff,  '  and  so  indifferent !  Can  she 
possibly  be  naughty  Dolly's  daughter  ? ' 

He  was  interested,  and  he,  being  skilled  in 
such  ways,  easily  learned  the  little  there  was  to 
know  about  her,  whilst  he  took  her  through 
his  conservatories,  and  showed  her  Japan  lilies, 
Chinese  blossoms  that  changed  colour  thrice  a 
day,  and  orchids  of  all  climes  and  colours. 

The  conservatories  were  really  rare,  and 
pleased  her;  but  Prince  Zouroff  did  not.  His 
eyes  were  bold  and  cold,  at  once;  they  were 
red  too,  and  there  was  an  odour  of  brandy  on 
his  breath  that  came  to  her  through  all  the 
scent  of  the  flowers.  She  did  not  like  him. 
She  was  grave  and  silent.  She  answered 
what  he  asked,  but  she  did  not  care  to  stay 
there,  and  looked  round  for  a  chance  of  escape. 
It  charmed  Zouroff,  who  was  so  used  to  see 
women  throw  themselves  in  his  path  that  he 
found  no  pleasure  in  their  pursuit. 

VOL.   I.  N 


178  MOTHS. 


'Decidedly  she  lias  been  not  at  all  with 
naughty  Dolly  ! '  he  said  to  himself,  and  looked 
at  her  with  so  much  undisguised  admiration  in 
his  gaze,  that  Yere,  looking  up  from  the  golden 
blossoms  of  an  Odontoglossum,  blushed  to  the 
eyes,  and  felt  angr}^,  she  could  not  very  well 
have  told  why. 

'  Your  flowers  are  magnificent,  and  I  thank 
you,  monsieur ;  but  I  am  tired,  and  T  will  say 
good  night,'  she  said  quickly,  with  a  little 
haughtiness  of  accent  and  glance  which  pleased 
Zouroff  more  than  anything  had  done  for 
years. 

.'  I  would  not  detain  you  unwillingly,  made- 
moiselle, one  moment,'  he  said,  with  a  low  bow 
— a  bow  which  had  some  real  respect  in  it. 
'  Pardon  me,  this  is  your  nearest  way.  I  will 
say  to  miladi  that  you  were  tired.  To-morrow, 
if  there  be  anything  you  wish,  only  tell  me,  it 
shall  be  yours.' 

He  opened  a  door  that  led  out  of  the  last 
conservatory  on  to  the  foot  of  the  great  stair- 
case ;  and  Yere,  not  knowing  whether  she  were 
not  breaking   all  the   rules  of  politeness  and 


MOTHS.  179 


etiquette,  bent  her  head  to  him  and  darted  like 
a  swallow  np  the  stairs. 

Sergius  Zouroff  smiled,  and  strolled  back 
alone  through  his  drawing-rooms,  and  went  up 
to  Lady  Dolly,  and  cast  himself  into  a  long, 
low  chair  by  her  side. 

^Ma  chere,  your  lovely  daughter  did  not 
appreciate  my  flowers  or  myself.  She  told  me 
to  tell  you  she  was  tired,  and  has  gone  to  her 
room.  She  is  beautiful,  very  beautiful ;  but  I 
cannot  say  that  she  is  complimentary.' 

'  She  is  only  a  child,'  said  Lady  Dolly 
hurriedly ;  she  was  half  relieved,  half  fright- 
ened. 'She  is  rude ! '  she  added  regretfully. 
^  It  is  the  way  she  has  been  brought  up.  You 
must  forgive  her,  she  is  so  young,' 

'  Forgive  her !  31ais  de  hon  coeur  !  Any- 
thing feminine  that  runs  away  is  only  too 
delightful  in  these  times,'  said  the  Prince  coolly. 
*  Do  not  change  her.  Do  not  tease  her.  Do 
not  try  to  make  her  like  yourself.  I  prefer 
her  as  she  is.' 

Lady  Dolly  looked  at  him  quickly.  Was  it 
possible  that  already ? 


180  MOTHS. 


Sergius  Zouro£P  was  lying  back  in  his  chair 
with  his  eyes  closed.  He  was  laughing  a  little 
silently,  in  an  unpleasant  way  that  he  had  ;  he 
had  spoken  insolently,  and  Lady  Dolly  could 
not  resent  his  insolence. 

'You  are  very  kind.  Prince,'  she  said  as 
negligently  as  she  could  behind  her  fan.  '  Very 
kind,  to  treat  a  child's  boutades  as  a  girl's 
charm.  She  has  really  seen  nothing,  you 
know,  shut  up  in  that  old  northern  house  by 
the  sea ;  and  she  is  as  eccentric  as  if  she  were 
eighty  years  old.  Quite  odd  in  her  notions, 
quite ! ' 

'  Shall  we  play  ?  '  said  Zouroif. 

They  began  to  play,  most  of  them,  at  a 
little  roulette  table.  Musicians  were  inter- 
preting, divinely,  themes  of  Beethoven's  and 
Schumann's ;  the  great  glass  halls  and  marble 
courts  of  the  flowers  were  open  with  all  their 
array  of  bloom;  the  green  gardens  and  gay 
terraces  were  without  in  the  brilliancy  of 
moonlight ;  the  sea  was  not  a  score  of  yards 
away,  sparkling  with  phosphorus  and  star-rays ; 
but  they  were  indifferent  to  all  these  things. 


MOTHS.  rsi 


They  began  to  play,  and  heeded  nothing  else. 
The  music  sounded  on  deaf  ears;  the  flowers 
breathed  out  odours  on  closed  nostrils ;  the 
summer  night  spread  its  loveliness  in  vain ; 
and  the  waters  of  salt  wave  and  fresh  fountain 
murmured  on  unheeded.     Play  held  them. 

Sergius  Zouroff  lost  plenty  of  money  to 
Lady  Dolly,  who  went  to  bed  at  two  o'clock, 
worried  and  yet  pleased,  anxious  and  yet 
exultant. 

Vere's  room  was  placed  next  to  hers. 

She  looked  in  before  passing  on  to  her  own. 
The  girl  lay  sound  asleep  in  the  sweet  dreamless 
sleep  of  her  lingering  childhood,  her  hair 
scattered  like  gold  on  the  pillows,  her  limbs  in 
the  lovely  grace  of  a  serene  and  unconscious 
repose. 

Lady  Dolly  looked  at  her  as  she  slept,  and 
an  uneasy  pang  shot  through  her. 

*  If  he  do  mean  that,'  she  thought,  '  I 
suppose  it  would  be  horrible.  And  how  much 
too  pretty  and  too  innocent  she  would  be  for 
him — the  beast ! ' 

Then  she  turned  away,  and  went  to  her  own 


1?2  MOTHS. 


chamber,  and  began  the  toilsome  martyrdom  of 
having  her  perruque  unfastened,  and  her  night's 
preparations  for  the  morning's  enamel  begun. 

To  women  like  Lady  Dolly  life  is  a  comedy, 
no  doubt,  played  on  great  stages  and  to 
brilliant  audiences,  and  very  amusing  and 
charming,  and  all  that ;  but  alas !  it  has  two 
dread  passages  in  each  short  twenty- four  hours ; 
they  are,  the  bore  of  being  '^  done  up,'  and  the 
bore  of  being  '  undone  ! ' 

It  is  a  martyrdom,  but  they  bear  it  heroic- 
ally, knowing  that  without  it  they  would  be 
nowhere ;  would  be  yellow,  pallid,  wrinkled, 
even  perhaps  would  be  flirtationless,  unenvied, 
unregarded,  worse  than  dead  ! 

If  Lady  Dolly  had  said  any  prayers  she 
would  have  said,  '  Thank  God  for  Piver  ! ' 


CHAPTER   VII. 


It  was  a  very  pretty  life  at  Felicite. 

The  riding  parties  meeting  under  the  old 
avenue  of  Spanish  chestnuts  and  dispersing  down 
the  flowering  lanes  ;  the  shooting  parties,  which 
were  not  serious  and  engrossing  as  in  England, 
but  animated  and  picturesque  in  the  deep  old 
Norman  woods;  the  stately  dinner  at  nine 
o'clock  every  night,  like  a  royal  banquet ;  the 
music  which  was  so  worthy  of  more  attentive 
hearers  than  it  ever  got ; .  the  theatre,  pretty 
and  pimjmnt  as  a  coquette  of  the  last  century ; 
the  laughter ;  the  brilliancy ;  the  personal 
beauty  of  the  women  assembled  there ;  all 
made  the  life  at  Felicite  charming  to  the  eye 


184  MOTHS. 


and  the  ear.  Yet  amidst  it  all  Vere  felt  very 
lonely,  and  the  only  friends  she  made  were  in 
the  Irish  horse  that  they  gave  her  to  ride,  and 
in  the  big  Russian  hound  that  belonged  to 
Prince  Zouroff. 

The  men  thought  her  lovely,  but  they  could 
not  get  on  with  her ;  the  women  disliked  her 
as  much  as  they  adored,  or  professed  to  adore, 
Fuschia  Leach. 

To  Vere,  who  at  Bulmer  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  life  held  a  serious,  and  even 
solemn  thing — who  had  been  accustomed  to  the 
gravity  of  age  and  the  melancholy  of  a  sea- 
faring poor,  and  the  northern  tillers  of  a 
thankless  soil — nothing  seemed  so  wonderful  as 
the  perpetual  gaiety  and  levity  around  her. 
Was  there  any  sorrow  in  the  world  ?  Was  life 
only  one  long  laugh  ?  Was  it  right  to  forget 
the  woes  of  others  as  utterly  as  they  were 
forgotten  here?  She  was  always  wondering, 
and  there  was  no  one  to  ask. 

'You  are  horribly  in  earnest,  Vere,'  said 
her  mother  pettishly.  '  You  should  go  and  live 
with  Mr.  Gladstone.' 


MOTHS,  185 


But  to  Vere  its  seemed  more  horrible  to  be 
always  laughing — and  laughing  at  nothing. 
'  When  there  are  all  the  poor,'  she  thought,  'and 
all  the  animals  that  suffer  so.'  She  did  not 
understand  that,  when  these  pretty  women  had 
sold  china  and  flowers  at  a  fancy  fair  for  a 
hospital,  or  subscribed  to  the  Society  for  Pre- 
vention of  Cruelty,  they  had  really  done  all  that 
they  thought  was  required  of  them,  and  could 
dismiss  all  human  and  animal  pain  from  their 
mind,  and  bring  their  riding-horses  home 
saddle- galled  and  spur- torn  without  any  com- 
punction. 

To  the  complete  innocence  and  honesty  of 
the  girl's  nature  the  discovery  of  what  store  the 
world  set  on  all  things  which  she  had  been 
taught  to  hold  sacred,  left  a  sickening  sense  of 
solitude  and  depression  behind  it.  Those  who 
are  little  children  now  will  have  little  left  to 
learn  when  they  reach  womanhood.  The  little 
children  that  are  about  us  at  afternoon  tea  and 
at  lawn  tennis,  that  are  petted  by  house-parties 
and  romped  with  at  pigeon-shooting,  will  have 
little  left  to   discover.      They  are  miniature 


186  MOTHS. 


women  already ;  they  know  the  meaning  of 
many  a  dubious  phrase  ;  they  know  the  relative 
value  of  social  positions ;  they  know  much 
of  the  science  of  flirtation  which  society  has 
substituted  for  passion ;  they  understand  very 
thoroughly  the  shades  of  intimacy,  the  sugges- 
tions of  a  smile,  the  degrees  of  hot  and  cold,  that 
may  be  marked  by  a  bow  or  emphasised  with 
a  good-day.  All  the  subtle  science  of  society 
is  learned  by  them  instinctively  and  uncon- 
sciously, as  they  learn  French  and  German  from 
their  maids.  When  the}^  are  women  they  will 
at  least  never  have  Eve's  excuse  for  sin  ;  they 
will  know  everything  that  any  tempter  could 
tell  them.  Perhaps  their  knowledge  may 
prove  their  safeguard,  perhaps  not ;  perhaps 
without  its  bloom  the  fruit  to  men's  taste  may 
seem  prematurely  withered.  Another  ten 
years  will  tell.  At  any  rate  those  we  pet  to- 
day will  be  spared  the  pang  of  disillusion  when 
they  shall  be  fairly  out  in  a  world  that  they 
already  know  with  cynical  thoroughness — baby 
La  Bruyeres  and  girl-Rochefoucaulds  in  frills 
and  sashes. 


MOTHS.  187 


To  Yere  Herbert,  on  the  contrary,  reared  as 
slie  had  been  upon  grave  studies  and  in  country 
loneliness,  the  shocks  her  faiths  and  her  fancies 
received  was  very  cruel.  Sometimes  she  thought 
bitterly  she  would  have  minded  nothing  if  only 
her  mother  had  been  a  thing  she  could  have 
reverenced,  a  creature  she  could  have  gone  to 
for  support  and  sympathy. 

But  her  mother  was  the  most  frivolous  of 
the  whole  sea  of  froth  around  her — of  the  whole 
frivolous  womanhood  about  her  the  very 
emptiest  bubble. 

Yere,  who  herself  had  been  cast  by  nature 
in  the  mould  to  be  a  noble  mother  of  children, 
had  antique  sacred  fancies  that  went  with  the 
name  of  mother.  The  mother  of  the  Gracchi, 
the  mother  of  Bonaparte,  the  mother  of  Gari- 
baldi, the  many  noble  maternal  figures  of 
history  and  romance,  were  for  ever  in  her 
thoughts  ;  the  time-honoured  word  embodied 
to  her  all  sacrifice,  all  nobility,  all  holiness. 
And  her  mother  was  this  pretty  foolish  painted 
toy,  with  false  curls  in  a  sunny  circlet,  above 
her  kohl-washed  eyes,  with  her  heart  set  on 


188  MOTHS. 


a  cotillon,  and  her  name  in  the  mouths  of 
the  clubs ;  whose  god  was  her  tailor,  and  whose 
gospel  was  Zola;  whose  life  was  an  opera- 
bouffe,  and  who,  when  she  costumed  for  her 
part  in  it,  took  '  le  moindre  excuse  pour  paraitre 
nue  I '  The  thought  of  her  mother,  thus,  hurt 
her,  as  in  revolutions  it  hurts  those  who  believe 
in  Mary  to  see  a  Madonna  spat  upon  by  a  mob. 
Lady  Stoat  saw  this,  and  tried,  in  her 
fashion,  to  console  her  for  it. 

'  My  dear,  your  mother  is  young  still.  She 
must  divert  herself.  It  would  be  very  hard  on 
her  not  to  be  allowed.  You  must  not  think  she 
is  not  fond  of  you  because  she  still  likes  to 
waltz.' 

Vere's  eyes  were  very  sombre  as  she  heard. 
*  I  do  not  like  to  waltz.  I  never  do.' 
'No,  love?  Well,  temperaments  differ. 
But  surely  you  wouldn't  be  so  cruel  as  to  con- 
demn your  mother  only  to  have  your  inclina- 
tions, would  you?  Dolly  was  always  full  of 
fun.  I  think  you  have  not  fun  enough  in  you, 
perhaps.' 

'  But  my  father  is  dead.' 


MOTHS.  189 


^  My  clear,  Queen  Anne  is  dead !  Henri 
Quatre  est  sur  le  Font-Neuf,  What  other  news 
will  you  tell  us  ?  I  am  not  saying,  dear,  that 
you  should  think  less  of  your  father's  memory. 
It  is  too  sweet  of  your  to  feel  so  much,  and  very, 
very  rare,  alas  !  for  nowadays  our  children  are 
so  forgetful,  and  we  are  so  little  to  them.  But 
still  you  know  your  mama  is  young,  and  so 
pretty  as  she  is,  too,  no  one  can  expect  her  to 
shut  herself  up  as  a  recluse.  Perhaps,  had  you 
been  always  with  her,  things  would  have  been 
different,  but  she  has  always  been  so  much 
admired  and  so  petted  by  everyone  that  it  was 
only  natural — only  natural  that ' 

'  She  should  not  want  me,'  said  Yere,  as 
Lady  Stoat  paused  for  a  word  that  should 
adequately  express  Lady  Dolly's  excuses  whilst 
preserving  Lady  Dolly's  dignity  before  her 
daughter.' 

'  Oh,  my  dear,  I  never  meant  that,'  she 
said  hastily,  whilst  thinking,  'Quel  enfant 
terrible  I ' 

The  brilliant  Fuschia  was  inclined  to  be 
very  amiable  and  cordial  to  the  young  daughter 


100  MOTHS. 


of  Lady  Dorothy  Vanderdecken,  but  Vere  re- 
pelled lier  overtures  with  a  cliilling  courtesy 
that  made  the  bright  American  '  feel  foolish.' 

But  Pick-me-up,  as  she  was  usually  called 
in  the  great  world,  was  not  a  person  to  be 
deterred  by  one  slight,  or  by  fifty.  To  never 
risk  a  rebuff  is  a  golden  rule  for  self-respect ; 
but  it  is  not  the  rule  by  which  new  people 
achieve  success. 

Fuschia  Leach  was  delighted  with  her 
social  success,  but  she  never  deceived  herself 
about  it. 

In  America  her  people  were  ^  new  people ' — 
that  is  to  say,  her  father  had  made  his  pile 
selling  cigars  and  drugs  in  a  wild  country,  and 
her  brothers  were  making  a  bigger  pile  killing 
pigs  on  a  gigantic  scale  down  west.  In  New 
York  she  and  hers  were  deemed  '  shoddy ' — the 
very  shoddiest  of  shoddy — and  were  looked 
coldly  on,  and  were  left  unvisited.  But  boldly 
springing  over  to  less  sensitive  Europe,  they 
found  themselves  without  effort  received  at 
courts  and  in  embassies,  and  had  become 
fashionable  people  almost  as  soon  as  they  had 


MOTHS.  191 


had  time  to  buy  high-stepping  horses  and  ask 
great  tailors  to  clothe  them.  It  seemed  very 
funny ;  it  seemed  quite  unaccountable,  and  it 
bewildered  them  a  little ;  but  Fuschia  Leach 
did  not  lose  her  head. 

'  I  surmise  I'd  best  eat  the  curds  while 
they're  sweet,'  she  said  to  herself,  and  she  did 
eat  them.  She  dressed,  she  danced,  she  made 
all  her  young  men  fetch  and  carry  for  her,  she 
flirted,  she  caught  up  the  ways  and  words  and 
habits  and  graces  of  the  great  world,  and 
adapted  herself  to  her  new  sphere  with  versatile 
cleverness,  but  all  the  same  she  '  prospected ' 
with  a  keen  eye  all  the  land  that  lay  around 
her,  and  never  deceived  herself. 

'  I  look  cunning,  and  I'm  spry,  and  I  cheek 
him,  and  say  outrageous  things,  and  he  likes  it, 
and  so  they  all  go  mad  on  me  after  him,'  she 
said  to  herself;  meaning  by  her  pronoun  the 
great  personage  who  had  first  made  her  the 
fashion.  But  she  knew  very  well  that  whenever 
anything  prettier,  odder,  or  more  ^  outrageous  ' 
than  herself  should  appear  she  would  lose  her 
prestige  in  a  day,  and  fall  back  into  the  ranks 


192  MOTHS. 


of  the  ten  thousand  American  girls  who  over- 
run Europe. 

'  I  like  you,'  she  said  to  Vere  unasked  one 
day,  when  she  found  her  alone  on  the  lawn. 

'  You  are  very  good,'  said  Vere,  with  the 
coldness  of  an  empress  of  sixty  years  old. 

'I  like  you,'  reiterated  Miss  Leach.  'I 
like  you  because  you  treat  'em  like  dirt  under 
your  feet.  That's  our  way ;  but  these  Euro- 
peans go  after  men  as  the  squir'ls  jump  after 
cobs.  You  are  the  only  one  I  have  seen  that 
don't.' 

'  You  are  very  amiable  to  praise  me,'  said 
Vere  coldly. 

The  lovely  Euschia  continued  her  reflections 
aloud. 

'We're  just  as  bad  when  the  Englishmen 
go  over  to  us;  that's  a  fact.  But  with  our 
own  men  we  ain't;  we  just  make  shoeblacks 
and  scallyrags  of  them ;  they  fetch  and  carry, 
and  do  as  they're  told.  What  a  sharp  woman 
your  mother  is,  and  as  lively  as  a  katy-did. 
Now  on  our  side,  you  know,  the  old  folks  never 
get  at  play  like  that ;  they've  given  over.' 


MOTHS.  1{);J 


'My  mother  is  young,'  said  Vere,  more 
coldly  still. 

Miss  Leach  tilted  her  chair  on  end. 

'That's  just  what's  so  queer.  They  are 
young  on  into  any  age  over  here.  Your 
mother's  over  thirty,  I  suppose  ?  Don't  you 
call  that  old  ?  It's  Methuselah  with  us.  But 
here  your  grandmothers  look  as  cunning  as  can 
be,  and  they're  as  skittish  as  spring-lambs ; 
it's  the  climate  I  surmise  ?  ' 

Vere  did  not  reply,  and  Miss  Fuschia  Leach, 
undaunted,  continued  her  meditations  aloud. 

'You  haven't  had  many  affairs,  I  think? 
You're  not  really  out  are  you  ?  ' 

'  No— affairs  ?  ' 

'  Jleart  affairs,  you  know.  Dear  me  !  why 
before  I  was  your  age,  I  was  engaged  to  James 
Fluke  Dyson,  down  Boston  way.' 

'  Are  you  to  marry  him  then  ? ' 

*  Me  ?  No — thanks  !  I  never  meant  to  marry 
him.  He  did  to  go  about  with,  and  it  made 
Victoria  Boker  right  mad.  Then  mother  came 
to  Europe:  he  and  I  vowed  constancy  and 
exchanged  rings  and  hair  and  all  that,  and  we 

VOL.    I.  0 


194  MOTHS. 


did  write  to  each  other  each  mail,  till  I  got  to 
Paris  ;  then  I  got  more  slack,  and  I  disremem- 
bered  to  ask  when  the  mails  went  out;  soon 
after  we  heard  he  had  burst  up ;  wasn't  it  a 
piece  of  luck  ? ' 

'  I  do  not  understand.' 

'  Piece  of  luck  we  came  to  Europe.  I 
might  have  taken  him  over  there.  He  was  a 
fine  young  man,  only  he  hadn't  the  way  your 
men  have;  not  their  cheek  either.  His 
father'd  always  been  thought  one  of  the  big- 
gest note-shavers  in  N'York  City.  They  say 
it  was  the  fall  in  silver  broke  him ;  any 
way,  poor  James  he's  a  clerk  in  a  tea-store 
now.' 

Vere  look  at  her  in  speechless  surprise. 
Pick-me-up  laughed  all  the  more. 

*  Oh  they  are  always  at  seesaw  like  that  in 
our  country.  He'll  make  another  pile  I  dare- 
say by  next  year,  and  they'll  all  get  on  their  legs 
again.  Your  people,  when  they  are  bowled  over 
lie  down ;  ours  jump  up ;  I  surmise  it's  the 
climate.  I  like  your  men  best,  though ;  they 
look  such  swells,  even  when  they're  in  blanket 


MOTHS.  195 


coats   and   battered    old   hats,    such   as    your 
coushi  Mull  wears.' 

'  Is  it  true  that  Frank  wished  to  succeed 
Mr.  James  Fluke  Dyson?'  Yere  asked  after  a 
sore  struggle  with  her  disgust. 

'Who's  Frank?' 

'  My  cousin,  Mull  ? ' 

'  Is  he  Frank  ?  Dear  life !  I  always 
thought  dukes  were  dukes,  even  in  the  bosom 
of  their  families.  Yes ;  he  was  that  soft  on 
me — there,  they  all  are,  but  he's  the  worst  I 
ever  saw.  I  said  no,  but  I  could  whistle  him 
back.  I'm  most  sorry  I  did  say  no.  Dukes 
don't  grow  on  every  apple-bough ;  only,  he's 
poor  they  say — ' 

'  He  is  poor,'  said  Vere  coldly,  her  disgust 
conquering  all  amusement. 

'  When  I  came  across  the  Pond,'  said  Miss 
Leach,  continuing  her  own  reflections,  '  I  said 
to  mother  "  I'll  take  nothing  but  a  duke."  I 
always  had  a  kind  o'  fancy  for  a  duke.  There's 
such  a  few  of  them.  I  saw  an  old  print  once  in 
the  Broadway,  of  a  Duchess  of  Northumberland, 
holding  her  coronet  out  in  both  hands.     I  said 

02 


lOG  MOTIIS. 


to   myself  then,  that  was   how  I'd   be   taken 
someday — ' 

'  Do  you  think  duchesses  hold  their  coronets 
in  their  hands,  then  ?  ' 

'  Well,  no ;  I  see  they  don't ;  but  I  suppose 
one  would  in  a  picture  ?  ' 

'  I  think  it  would  look  very  odd,  even  in  a 
picture.' 

'  What's  the  use  of  having  one,  then?  There 
aren't  coronations  every  day.  They  tell  me 
your  cousin  might  be  rolling  if  he  liked.  Is  it 
true  he'd  have  five  hundred  pounds  sterling  a 
day  if  he  bored  for  coal  ?  One  could  live  on 
that.' 

'  He  would  never  permit  the  forest  to  be 
touched  to  save  his  life !  '  said  Yere,  indig- 
nantly with  a  frown  and  a  flush.  '  The  forests 
are  as  old  as  the  days  of  Hengist  and  Horsa ; 
the  wild  bulls  are  in  them  and  the  red  deer ; 
men  crept  there  to  die  after  Otterbourne;  under 
one  of  the  oaks.  King  James  saw  Johnie  Arm- 
strong.' 

Fuschia  Leach  showed  all  her  pretty  teeth. 
'  Very  touchin',  but  the  coal  was  under  them 


MOTHS.  197 


before  that,  I  guess  !  That's  much  more  to  the 
point.  I  come  from  a  business-country.  If 
he'll  hear  reason  about  that  coal,  I'm  not  sure 
I  won't  think  twice  about  your  cousin.' 

Yere,  without  ceremony,  turned  awa.y.  She 
felt  angry  tears  swell  her  throat  and  rise 
into  her  eyes. 

'  Oh  !  you  turn  up  your  nose  ! '  said  Fuschia 
Leach  vivaciously.  '  You  think  it  atrocious 
that  new  folks  should  carry  off  your  brothers, 
and  cousins,  and  friends.  Well,  I'd  like  to 
know  where's  it  worse  than  all  your  big 
nobility  going  down  at  our  feet  for  our  dollars? 
I  don't  say  your  English  do  it  so  much,  but 
they  do  do  it,  your  younger  sons,  and  all  that 
small  fry ;  and  abroad  we  can  buy  the  biggest 
and  best  titles  in  all  Europe  for  a  few  hundred 
thousand  dollars  a  year.  Thafs  real  mean ! 
That's  blacking  boots,  if  you  please.  Men 
with  a  whole  row  of  crusaders  at  their  backs, 
men  as  count  their  forefathers  right  away  into 
Julius  Csesar's  times,  men  that  had  uncles  in 
the  Ark  with  Noah,  they're  at  a  Yankee  pile 
likes  flies  around  molasses.     AYal,   now,'  said 


198  MOTHS. 


the  pretty  American,  with  her  eyes  lighting 
fiercely  and  with  sparks  of  scorn  flashing  out 
from  them,  '  Wal,  now,  you're  all  of  you  that 
proud  that  you  beat  Lucifer,  but  as  far  as  I 
see  there  aren't  much  to  be  proud  of.  We're 
shoddy  over  there.  If  we  went  to  Boston  we 
wouldn't  get  a  drink,  outside  an  hotel,  for  our 
lives.  N'York,  neither,  don't  think  because  a 
man's  struck  ile  he'll  go  to  heaven  with  Paris 
thrown  in  ;  but  look  at  all  your  big  folk  \  Pray 
what  do  they  do  the  minute  shoddy  comes  their 
way  over  the  pickle- field  ?  Why  they  just  eat 
it !  Kiss  it  and  eat  it !  Do  you  guess  we're  such 
fools  we  don't  see  that?  Why  your  Norman 
blood  and  Domesday  Book  and  all  the  rest  of 
it — pray  hasn't  it  married  Lily  Peart,  whose 
father  kept  the  steamboat  hotel  in  Jersey  City, 
and  made  his  pile  selling  soothers  to  the 
heathen  Chinee  ?  Who  was  your  Marchioness 
of  Snowdon  if  she  weren't  the  daughter  of  old 
Sam  Salmon  the  note-shaver  ?  Who  was  your 
Duchesse  de  Dagobert,  if  she  weren't  Aurelia 
Twine,  with  seventy  million  dollars  made  in  two 
years   out  of  oil?       Who  was   your  Princess 


MOTHS.  199 


Buondelmare,  if  not  Lotty  Miller,  who  Avas 
born  in  Nevada,  and  baptized  with  gin  in  a 
miner's  pannikin  ?  We  know  'em  all !  And 
Blue  Blood's  taken  'em  because  they  had  cash. 
That's  about  it !  Wal,  to  my  fancy,  there 
aren't  much  to  be  proud  of  anyhow,  and  it 
aren't  only  us  that  need  be  laughed  at.' 

'  It  is  not,'  said  Yere,  who  had  listened  in 
bewilderment.  '  There  is  very  much  to  be 
ashamed  of  on  both  sides.' 

'  Shame's  a  big  thing — a  four-horse  con- 
cern,' said  the  other  with  some  demur.  '  But 
if  any  child  need  be  ashamed  it  is  not  this 
child.  There's  a  woman  in  Eome,  Anastasia 
W.  Crash ;  her  father's  a  coloured  person. 
After  the  war  he  turned  note-shaver  and  made 
a  pile;  Anastasia  aren't  coloured  to  signify; 
she  looks  like  a  Creole,  and  she's  handsome. 
It  got  wind  in  Eome  that  she  was  going  there, 
and  had  six  million  dollars  a  year  safe ;  and 
she  has  that ;  it's  no  lie.  Well,  in  a  week  she 
could  pick  and  choose  amongst  the  Roman 
princes  as  if  they  were  bilberries  in  a  hedge,  and 
she's  taken  one  that's  got  a  name  a  thousand 


200  MOTHS. 


years  old ;  a  name  that  every  school-girl  reads 
out  in  her  history-books  when  she  reads  about 
the  popes !  There  !  And  Anastasia  W.  Crash  is 
a  coloured  person  with  us ;  with  us  we  would 
not  go  in  the  same  car  with  her,  nor  eat  at  the 
same  table  with  her.  What  do  you  think  of 
that?' 

'  I  think  your  country  is  very  liberal ;  and 
that  your  "  coloured  person  "  has  revenged  all 
the  crimes  of  the  Borgias.' 

The  pretty  American  looked  at  her  sus- 
piciously. 

'  I  guess  I  don't  understand  you,'  she  said 
a  little  sulkily.  'I  guess  you're  very  deep, 
aren't  you  ? ' 

'  Pardon  me,'  said  Yere,  weary  of  the  con- 
versation ;  '  if  you  will  excuse  me  I  will  leave 
you  now,  we  are  going  to  ride ' 

'  Ride  ?  Ah !  That's  a  thing  I  don't  cotton 
to  anyhow,'  said  Miss  Fuschia  Leach,  who  had 
found  that  her  talent  did  not  lie  that  way,  and 
could  never  bring  herself  to  comprehend  how 
princesses  and  duchesses  could  find  any  plea- 
sure in  tearing  over  bleak  fields  and  jumping 


MOTHS.  201 


scratching  hedges.  A  calorifere  at  eighty  de- 
grees always,  a  sacque  from  Sirandin's,  an  easy 
chair,  and  a  dozen  young  men  in  various  stages 
of  admiration  around  her,  that  was  her  idea  of 
comfort.  Every  thing  out  of  doors  made  her 
chilly. 

She  watched  Vere  pass  away,  and  laughed, 
and  yet  felt  sorry.  She  herself  was  the  rage 
because  she  was  a  great  beauty  and  a  great  flirt ; 
because  she  had  been  signalled  for  honour  by  a 
prince  whose  word  was  law ;  because  she  was 
made  for  the  age  she  lived  in,  with  a  vulgarity 
that  was  chic,  and  an  audacity  that  was  un- 
rivalled, and  a  delightful  mingling  of  utter 
ignorance  and  intense  shrewdness,  of  slavish 
submission  to  fashion  and  daring  eccentricity  in 
expression,  that  made  her  to  the  jaded  palate  of 
the  world  a  social  caviare,  a  moral  absinthe. 
Exquisitely  pretty,  perfectly  dressed,  as  dainty 
to  look  at  as  porcelain,  and  as  common  to  talk  to 
as  a  camp  follower,  she,  like  many  of  her  nation, 
had  found  herself,  to  her  own  surprise,  an  object 
of  adoration  to  that  great  world  of  which  she 
had  known  nothing,  except  from  the  imagina- 


202  MOTHS. 


tive  columns  of  '  own  correspondents.'  But 
Fuschia  Leach  was  no  fool,  as  slie  said  often 
herself,  and  she  felt,  as  her  eyes  followed  Yere, 
that  this  calm  cold  child  with  her  great  con- 
temptuous eyes  and  her  tranquil  voice,  had 
something  she  had  not ;  something  that  not  all 
the  art  of  Mr.  Worth  could  send  with  his  con- 
fections to  herself. 

'  My  word  !  I  think  I'll  take  Mull  just  to 
rile  her  ! '  she  thought  to  herself;  and  thought, 
too,  for  she  was  good-natured  and  less  vain 
than  she  looked :  '  Perhaps  she'd  like  me  a 
little  bit  then — and  then,  again,  perhaps  she 
wouldn't.' 

'  That  girl's  worth  five  hundred  of  me, 
and  yet  they  don't  see  it ! '  she  mused  now, 
as  she  pursued  Yere's  shadow  with  her 
eyes  across  the  lawn.  She  knew  very  well 
that  with  some  combination  of  scarlet  and 
orange,  or  sage  and  maize  upon  her,  in  some 
miracle  of  velvet  and  silk,  with  a  cigarette  in 
her  mouth,  a  thousand  little  curls  on  her  fore- 
head, the  last  slang  on  her  lips,  and  the  last 
news  on  her   ear,  her  own  generation  would 


MOTHS.  203 


find  lier  adorable  while  it  would  leave  Yere 
Herbert  in  the  shade.  And  yet  she  would 
sooner  have  been  Yere  Herbert ;  yet  she  would 
sooner  have  had  that  subtle,  nameless,  unat- 
tainable '  something '  which  no  combination  of 
scarlet  and  orange,  of  sage  and  of  maize,  was 
able  to  give,  no  imitation  or  effort  for  half  a 
lifetime  would  teach. 

'We  don't  raise  that  sort  somehow  our 
way,'  she  reflected  wistfully. 

She  let  the  riding  i)arty  go  out  with  a 
sigh  of  envy — the  slender  figure  of  Yere  fore- 
most on  a  mare  that  few  cared  to  mount — and 
went  herself  to  drive  in  a  little  basket-carriage 
with  the  Princess  Nelaguine,  accompanied  by 
an  escort  of  her  own  more  intimate  adorers,  to 
call  at  two  or  three  of  the  maisonettes  scattered 
along  the  line  of  the  shore  between  Felicite 
and  Yillers. 

'  Strikes  me  I'll  have  to  take  that  duke 
after  all,'  she  thought  to  herself ;  he  would  come 
to  her  sign  she  knew,  as  a  hawk  to  the  lure. 

That  day  Prince  Zouroff  rode  by  Yere's 
side,  and  paid  her  many  compliments  on  her 


204  MOTHS. 


riding  and  other  things ;  but  she  scarcely 
heard  them.  She  knew  she  could  ride  any- 
thing, as  she  told  him;  and  she  thought 
everyone  could  who  loved  horses;  and  then 
she  barely  heard  the  rest  of  his  pretty  speeches. 
She  was  thinking,  with  a  bewildered  disgust, 
of  the  woman  whom  Francis  Herbert,  Duke  of 
Mull  and  Cantire,  was  willing  to  make  her 
cousin. 

She  had  not  comprehended  one  tithe  of 
Pick-me-up's  jargon,  but  she  had  understood 
the  menace  to  the  grand,  old,  sombre  border 
forests  about  Castle  Herbert,  which  she  loved 
with  a  love  only  second  to  that  she  felt  for  the 
moors  and  woods  of  Buhner. 

'  I  would  sooner  see  Francis  dead  than  see 
him  touch  those  trees  ! '  she  thought,  with  what 
her  mother  called  her  terrible  earnestness. 
And  she  was  so  absorbed  in  thinking  of  the 
shame  of  such  a  wife  for  a  Herbert  of  Mull, 
that  she  never  noticed  the  glances  Zouroff  gave 
her,  or  dreamed  that  the  ladies  who  rode  with 
her  were  saying  to  each  other,  '  Is  it  possible  "? 
Can  he  be  serious  ?  ' 


Moths.  205 


Vere  had  been  accustomed  to  rise  at  six 
and  go  to  bed  at  ten,  to  spend  her  time  in 
serious  studies  or  open-air  exercise.  She  was 
bewildered  by  a  day  which  began  at  one  or 
two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  ended  at 
cockcrow  or  later.  She  was  harassed  by  the 
sense  of  being  perpetually  exhibited  and  un- 
ceasingly criticised.  Speaking  little  herself,  she 
listened,  and  observed,  and  began  to  under- 
stand all  that  Correze  had  vaguely  warned  her 
against;  to  see  the  rancour  underlying  the 
honeyed  words;  the  enmity  concealed  by  the 
cordial  smile;  the  hate  expressed  in  praise; 
the  effort  masked  in  ease  ;  the  endless  strife  and 
calumny,  and  cruelty,  and  small  conspiracies 
which  make  up  the  daily  life  of  men  and 
women  in  society.  Most  of  it  was  still  a 
mystery  to  her ;  but  much  she  saw,  and  grew 
heartsick  at  it.  Light  and  vain  temperaments 
find  their  congenial  atmosphere  in  the  world 
of  fashion,  but  hers  was  neither  light  nor  vain, 
and  the  falseness  of  it  all  oppressed  her. 

'  You  are  a  little  Puritan,  my  dear !  '  said 
Lady  Stoat,  smiling  at  her. 


206  MOTHS. 


'  Pray  be  anything  else  rather  than  that ! ' 
said  Lady  Dolly  pettishly.  '  Everybody  hates 
it.  It  makes  you  look  priggish  and  conceited, 
and  nobody  believes  in  it  even.  That  ever  a 
child  of  mine  should  have  such  ideas  ! ' 

'  Yes.  It  is  very  funny  ! '  said  her  dear 
Adine  quietly.  '  You  neglected  her  education, 
pussy.  She  is  certainly  a  little  Puritan.  But 
YiQ  should  not  laugh  at  her.  In  these  days  it 
is  really  very  interesting  to  see  a  girl  who  can 
blush,  and  who  does  not  understand  the  French 
of  the  Petits  Journaux,  though  she  knows  the 
French  of  Marmontel  and  of  Masillon.' 

^  Who  cares  for  Marmontel  and  Masillon  ?  ' 
said  Lady  Dolly  in  disgust. 

She  was  flattered  by  the  success  of  Vere 
as  a  beauty,  and  irritated  by  her  failure  as  a 
companionable  creature.  She  was  trium- 
phant to  see  the  impression  made  by  the 
girl's  blending  of  sculptural  calm  and  child- 
like loveliness.  She  was  infuriated  a  hundred 
times  a  day  by  Vere's  obduracy,  coldness,  and 
unwise  directness  of  speech. 

'It  is    almost  imbecility,'   thought   Lady 


MOTHS.  207 


DoUj,  obliged  to  apologise  contin-ually  for  some 
misplaced  sincerity  or  obtuse  negligence  with 
which  her  daughter  had  offended  people. 

'You  should  never  froisser  other  people; 
never,  never  ! '  said  Lady  Dolly.  '  If  Nero,  and 
what-was-her-name  that  began  with  an  M, 
were  to  come  in  your  world,  you  should  be  civil 
to  them ;  yon  should  be  charming  to  them,  so 
long  as  they  were  people  that  were  received. 
Nobody  is  to  judge  for  themselves,  never.  If 
society  is  with  you,  then  you  are  all  right. 
Besides,  it  looks  so  much  prettier  to  be  nice 
and  charitable  and  all  that ;  and  besides,  what 
do  3^ou  know,  you  chit  P 

Yere  was  always  silent  under  these  instruc- 
tions ;  they  were  but  little  understood  by  her. 
VYhen  she  did  froisser  people  it  was  generally 
because  their  consciences  gave  a  sting  to  her 
simple  frank  words  of  which  the  young  speaker 
herself  was  quite  unconscious. 

'  Am  I  a  Puritan  ?  '  Yere  thought,  with 
anxious  self-examination.  In  history  she  de- 
tested the  Puritans ;  all  her  sympathies  were 
with  the  other  side.     Yet  she  began  now  to 


208  MOTHS. 


think  that,  if  the  Stuart  court  ever  resembled 
Felicite,  the  Puritans  had  not  perhaps  been  so 
very  far  wrong. 

Felicite  was  nothing  more  or  worse  than  a 
very  fashionable  house  of  the  period ;  but  it 
was  the  world  in  little,  and  it  hurt  her,  bewil- 
dered her,  and  in  many  ways  disgusted  her. 

If  she  had  been  stupid,  as  her  mother 
thought  her,  she  would  have  been  amused  or 
indifferent;  but  she  was  not  stupid,  and  she 
was  oppressed  and  saddened.  At  Bulmer  she 
had  been  reared  to  think  truth  the  first  law  of 
life,  modesty  as  natural  to  a  gentlewoman  as 
cleanliness,  delicacy  and  reserve  the  attributes 
of  all  good  breeding,  and  sincerity  indispensable 
to  self-respect.  At  Felicite,  who  seemed  to  care 
for  any  one  of  these  things  ? 

Lady  Stoat  gave  them  lip-service  indeed, 
but,  with  that  exception,  no  one  took  the  trouble 
even  to  render  them  that  questionable  homage 
which  hypocrisy  pays  to  virtue. 

In  a  world  that  was  the  really  great  world, 
so  far  as  fashion  went  and  rank  (for  the  house- 
party  at  Felicite  was  composed  of  people  of  the 


MOTHS.  209 


purest  blood  and  highest  station,  people  very 
exclusive,  very  prominent  and  -vsery  illustrious), 
Vere  found  things  that  seemed  passing  strange 
to  her.  When  she  heard  of  professional  beau- 
ties, whose  portraits  were  sold  for  a  shilling, 
and  whose  names  were  as  cheap  as  red  herrings, 
yet  who  were  received  at  court  and  envied  by 
princesses ;  when  she  saw  that  men  were  the 
wooed,  not  the  wooers,  and  that  the  art  of 
flirtation  was  reduced  to  a  tournament  of  ef- 
frontery ;  when  she  saw  a  great  duchess  go  out 
with  the  guns,  carrying  her  own  chokebore  by 
Purdy  and  showing  her  slender  limbs  in  gaiters ; 
when  she  saw  married  women  not  much  older 
than  herself  spending  hour  after  hour  in  the 
fever  of  chemin  de  fer ;  when  she  learned  that 
they  were  very  greedy  for  their  winnings  to  be 
paid,  but  never  dreamt  of  being  asked  to  pay 
their  losses ;  when  she  saw  these  women  with 
babies  in  their  nurseries,  making  unblushing 
love  to  dther  women's  husbands,  and  saw  every- 
one looking  on  the  pastime  as  a  matter  of  course 
quite  goodnaturedly;  when  she  saw  one  of  these 
ladies  take  a  flea  from  her  person  and  cry,  Qui 

VOL.    I,  p 


310  MOTHS. 


m^aime  Vavale,  and  a  prince  of  semi-royal  blood 
swallow  the  flea  in  a  glass  of  water,  when  to 
these  things,  and  a  hundred  others  like  them, 
theyonng  student  from  the  Northumbrian  moors 
was  the  silent  and  amazed  listener  and  spectator, 
she  felt  indeed  lost  in  a  strange  and  terrible 
world ;  and  something  that  was  very  like  dis- 
gust shone  from  her  clear  eyes  and  closed  her 
proud  mouth. 

Society  as  it  was  filled  her  with  a  very 
weariness  of  disgust,  a  cold  and  dreary  dis- 
enchantment, like  the  track  of  grey  mire  that 
in  the  mountains  is  left  by  the  descent  of 
the  glacier.  But  her  mother  was  more  terrible 
to  her  than  all.  At  the  thought  of  her  mother 
Vere,  even  in  solitude,  felt  her  cheek  burn 
with  an  intolerable  shame.  When  she  came 
to  know  something  of  the  meaning  of  those 
friendships  that  society  condones — ^of  those 
jests  which  society  whispers  between  a  cup  of 
tea  and  a  cigarette — of  those  hints  which  are 
enjoyed  like  a  bonbon,  yet  contain  all  the 
enormities  that  appalled  Juvenal, — then  the 
heart  of  Vere  grew  sick,  and  she  began  slowly 


MOTHS.  2il 


to  realise  what  manner  of  woman  this  was 
that  had  given  her  birth. 

'  My  dear,  your  pretty  daughter  seems  to  sit 
in  judgment  on  us  all  !  I  am  sadly  afraid  she 
finds  us  wanting,'  said  the  great  lady  who  had 
signalised  herself  with  utilising  a  flea. 

^  Oh,  she  has  a  dreadful  look,  I  know,'  said 
Lady  Dolly  distractedly.  '  But  you  see  she  has 
been  always  with  that  odious  old  woman.  She 
has  seen  nothing.     She  is  a  baby.' 

The  other  smiled : 

'When  she  has  been  married  a  year,  all 
that  will  change.  She  will  leave  it  behind  her 
with  her  maiden  sashes  and  shoes.  But  I  am 
not  sure  that  she  will  marry  quickly,  lovely  as 
she  is.  She  frightens  people,  and,  if  you  don't 
mind  my  saying  so,  she  is  rude.  The  other 
night  when  we  had  that  little  bit  of  fan  about 
the  flea  she  rose  and  walked  away,  turned 
her  back  positively,  as  if  she  were  a  scan- 
dalised dowager.  Now,  you  know,  that 
doesn't  do  nowadays.  The  age  of  saints  is 
gone  by ' 

'  If  there  ever  were  one,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
p2 


212  MOTHS. 


who  occasionally  forgot  that  she  was  very  high 
church  in  her  doctrines. 

'  Vera  would  make  a  beautiful  St.  Ursula,' 
said  Lady  Stoat,  joining  them.  '  There  is  war 
as  well  as  patience  in  her  countenance;  she 
will  resist  actively  as  well  as  endure  passively.' 

'  What  a  dreadful  thing  to  say ! '  sighed 
Lady  Dolly. 

The  heroine  of  the  flea  erotic  laughed  at  her. 

'Marry  her,  my  dear.  That  is  what  she 
wants.' 

She  herself  was  only  one  and  twenty,  and 
had  been  married  four  years,  had  some  little 
flaxen  bundles  in  nurses'  arms  that  she  seldom 
saw,  was  deeply  in  debt,  had  as  many  adorers 
as  she  had  pearls  and  diamonds,  and  was  a 
very  popular  and  admired  personage. 

'  Why  can't  you  get  on  with  people  ?  '  Lady 
Dolly  said  to  Yere  irritably,  that  day. 

'I  do  not  think  they  like  me,'  said  Vere 
very  humbly;  and  her  mother  answered  very 
sharply  and  sensibly : 

'  Everybody  is  liked  as  much  as  they  wish 
to  be.     If  you  show  people  you  like  them,  they 


MOTHS,  '2\Z 


like  you.  It  is  perfectly  simple.  You  get 
what  you  give  my  dear  in  this  world.  But  the 
sad  truth  is,  Vere,  that  you  are  unamiable.' 

Was  she  in  truth  unamiable  ? 

She  felt  the  tears  gather  in  her  eyes.  She 
put  her  hand  on  the  hound  Loris's  collar,  and 
went  away  with  him  into  the  gardens ;  the  ex- 
quisite gardens  with  the  gleam  of  the  sea 
between  the  festoons  of  their  roses  that  no  one 
hardly  ever  noticed  except  herself.  In  a  de- 
serted spot  where  a  marble  Antinous  reigned 
over  a  world  of  bigonias,  she  sat  down  on  a 
rustic  chair  and  put  her  arm  round  the  dog's 
neck,  and  cried  like  the  child  that  she  was. 

She  thought  of  the  sweetbriar  bush  on  the 
edge  of  the  white  cliff — oh  !  if  only  Correze 
had  been  here  to  tell  her  what  to  do  ! 

The  dog  kissed  her  in  his  own  way,  and  was 
sorrowful  for  her  sorrow ;  the  sea  wind  stirred 
the  flowers;  the  waves  were  near  enough  at 
hand  for  their  murmuring  to  reach  her;  the 
quietness  and  sweetness  of  the  place  soothed  her. 

She  would  surely  see  Correze  again,  she 
thought;    perhaps  in  Paris,  this  very  winter. 


214  MOTHS. 


if  her  mother  took  her  there.  He  would  tell 
lier  if  she  were  right  or  wrong  in  having  no 
sympathy  with  all  these  people ;  and  the  tears 
still  fell  down  her  cheeks  as  she  sat  there 
and  fancied  she  heard  that  wondrous  voice  rise 
once  more  above  the  sound  of  the  sea. 

'  Mademoiselle  Vera,  are  you  unhappy  ?  and 
in  Felicite  ! '  said  a  voice  that  was  very  unlike 
that  unforgotten  music — the  voice  of  Sergius 
ZourofP. 

Vere  looked  up  startled,  with  her  tears  still 
wet,  like  dew. 

Zouroif  had  been  kindness  itself  to  her,  but 
her  first  disgust  for  him  had  never  changed. 
She  was  alarmed  and  vexed  to  be  found  by 
him,  so,  alone. 

*  What  frets  you  ? '  he  said,  with  more 
gentleness  than  often  came  into  his  tones. 
'  It  is  a  regret  to  me  as  your  host  that  you 
should  know  any  regret  in  Felicite.  If  there 
be  anything  I  can  do,  command  me.' 

'Your  are  very  good,  monsieur,'  said  Vere 
hesitatingly.  'It  is  nothing — very  little,  at 
least ;  my  mother  is  vexed  with  me.' 


MOTHS.  215 


'  Indeed  !  Your  charming  mother,  then, 
for  once,  must  be  in  the  wrong.     What  is  it  ? ' 

'  Because  people  do  not  like  me.' 

'  Who  is  barbarian  enough  not  to  like  you? 
I  am  a  barbarian  but — ' 

His  cold  eyes  grew  eloquent,  but  she  did 
not  see  their  gaze,  for  she  was  looking  dreamily 
at  the  far-off  sea. 

'  ISTo  one  likes  me,'  said  Yere  wearily,  '  and 
my  mother  thinks  it  is  my  fault.  !N"o  doubt 
it  is.  I  do  not  care  for  what  they  care 
for ;  but  then  they  do  not  care  for  what 
I  love — the  gardens,  the  woods,  the  sea,  the 
dogs.' 

She  drew  Loris  close  as  she  spoke,  and  rose 
to  go.  She  did  not  wish  to  be  with  her  host. 
But  Zouroff  paced  by  her  side. 

'  Loris  pleases  you  ?  Will  you  give  him  the 
happiness  of  being  called  yours  ?  ' 

Yere  for  once  raised  a  bright  and  grateful 
face  to  him,  a  flush  of  pleasure  drying  her 
tears. 

'  Mine  ?  Loris  ?  Oh  that  would  be  delight- 
ful ! — if  mamma  will  let  me.' 


216  MOTHS, 


'Your  mother  will  let  you,'  said  ZourofF, 
with  an  odd  smile.  '  Loris  is  a  fortunate  beast, 
to  have  power  to  win  your  fancy. 

'  But  I  like  all  dogs—' 

'  And  no  men  ?  ' 

'  I  do  not  think  about  them.' 

It  was  the  simple  truth. 

'  I  wish  I  were  a  dog  ! '  said  Serge  ZourofF. 

Vere  laughed  for  a  moment — a  child's  sud- 
den laugh  at  a  droll  idea;  then  her  brows 
contracted  a  little. 

'  Dogs  do  not  flatter  me,'  she  said  curtly. 

'  Nor  do  I — foi  d^honneur  !  But  tell  me,  is 
it  really  the  fact  that  cruel  Lady  Dolly  made 
you  weep  ?  In  my  house  too ! — I  am  very 
angry.  I  wish  to  make  it  Felicite  to  you, 
beyond  any  other  of  my  guests.' 

'Mamma  was  no  doubt  right,  monsieur,' 
said  Yere  coldly.  '  She  said  that  I  do  not  like 
people,  and  I  do  not.' 

'Dame  !  you  have  very  excellent  taste  then/ 
said  Zouroff  with  a  laugh.  '  I  will  not  quarrel 
with  your  coldness.  Mademoiselle  Yera,  if  you 
will  only  make  an  exception  for  me  ?  ' 


MOTHS.  217 


Vere  was  silent. 

Zouroff's  eyes  grew  impatient  and  fiery. 

'  Will  you  not  even  like  me  a  little  for 
Loris's  sake  ? ' 

Vere  stood  still  in  the  rose-path,  and  looked 
at  him  with  serions  serene  eyes. 

'  It  was  kind  of  you  to  give  me  Loris,  that 
I  know,  and  I  am  grateful  for  that ;  but  I  will 
not  tell  you  what  is  false,  monsieur ;  it  would 
be  a  very  bad  return.' 

'Is  she  the  wiliest  coquette  by  instinct,  or 
only  the  strangest  child  that  ever  breathed? ' 
thought  Zouroff  as  he  said  aloud.  '  Why  do 
you  not  like  me,  mon  enfant  ? ' 

Vere  hesitated  a  moment. 

'  I  do  not  think  you  are  a  good  man.' 

'  And  why  am  I  so  unfortunate  as  to  give 
you  that  opinion  of  me  ?  ' 

'  It  is  the  way  you  talk ;  and  you  kicked 
Loris  one  day  last  week.' 

Serge  Zouroff  laughed  aloud,  but  he  swore 
a  heavy  oath  under  his  breath. 

'  Your  name  in  Eussian  means  Faith.  You 
are  well   named.  Mademoiselle  Vera,'  he  said 


218  MOTHS. 


carelessly,  as  he  continued  to  walk  by  lier  side. 
'But  I  shall  hope  to  make  you  think  better 
things  of  me  yet,  and  I  can  never  kick  Loris 
again,  as  he  is  now  yours,  without  your  per- 
mission.' 

'You  will  never  have  that,*  said  Vere,  with 
a  little  smile,  as  she  thought,  with  a  pang  of 
compunction,  that  she  had  been  very  rude  to  a 
host  who  was  courteous  and  generous. 

Zouroff  moved  on  beside  her,  gloomy  and 
silent. 

'Take  my  arm,  mademoiselle,'  he  said 
suddenly,  as  they  were  approaching  the  chateau. 
Vere  put  her  hand  on  his  arm  in  timid  compli- 
ance ;  she  felt  that  she  must  have  seemed  rude 
and  thankless.  They  crossed  the  smooth  lawns 
that  stretched  underneath  the  terraces  of 
Felicite. 

It  was  near  sunset,  about  seven  o'clock; 
some  ladies  were  out  on  the  terrace,  amidst 
them  Lady  Dolly  and  the  heroine  of  the  flea. 
They  saw  Zouroff  cross  the  turf,  with  the  girl 
in  her  white  Gainsborough  dress  beside  him, 
and  the  hound  beside  her. 


MOTHS.  219 


Lady  Dolly's  heart  gave  a  sudden  leap,  then 
stopped  its  beats  m  suspense. 

'  Positively — I    do — think '    murmured 

the  lady  of  the  flea ;  and  then  fell  back  in  her 
chair  in  a  fit  of  uncontrollable  laughter. 

Vere  loosened  her  hand  from  her  host's 
arm  as  they  ascended  the  terrace  steps,  and 
came  straight  to  her  mother. 

'  Monsieur  ZouroflP  has  given  me  Loris  ! '  she 
cried  breathlessly,  for  the  dog  was  to  her  an 
exceeding  joy.  '  You  will  let  me  have  Loris, 
mamma  ? ' 

'Let  her  have  Loris,'  said  Zouroff,  with  a 
smile  that  Lady  Dolly  understood. 

'  Certainly,  since  you  are  so  kind.  Prince,' 
she  said  charmingly.  '  But  a  dog  !  It  is  such  a 
disagreeable  thing ;  when  one  travels  especially. 
Still,  since  you  are  so  good  to  that  naughty 
child,  who  gives  all  her  heart  to  the  brutes ' 

'  I  am  happy  that  she  thinks  me  a  brute 
too,'  said  ZourofiP,  with  a  grim  smile. 

The  ladies  laughed. 

Vere  did  not  hear  or  heed.  She  was  caress- 
ing her  new  treasure. 


220  MOTHS. 


'  I  shall  not  feel  alone  now  with  Loris,'  she 
was  saying  to  herself.  The  dull  fierce  eyes  of 
Serge  Zouroff  were  fastened  on  her,  but  she 
did  not  think  of  him,  nor  of  why  the  women 
laughed. 

Lady  Dolly  was  vaguely  perplexed. 

'  The  girl  was  crying  half  an  hour  ago/  she 
thought.  'Perhaps  she  is  deeper  than  one 
thinks.  Perhaps  she  means  to  draw  him  on 
that  way.  Anyhow,  her  way  appears  to  answer 
— but  it  hardly  seems  possible — when  one 
thinks  what  he  has  had  thrown  at  his  head  and 
never  looked  at !  And  Vere !  such  a  rude 
creature,  and  such  a  simpleton !  ' 

Yet  a  sullen  respect  began  to  enter  into  her 
for  her  daughter :  the  respect  that  women  of 
the  world  only  give  to  a  shrewd  talent  for 
finesse.  If  she  were  capable  at  sixteen  of 
'  drawing  on '  the  master  of  Felicite  thus  ably, 
Lady  Dolly  felt  that  her  daughter  might  yet 
prove  worthy  of  her ;  might  still  become  a  being 
with  whom  she  could  have  sympathy  and 
community  of  sentiment.  And  yet  Lady 
Dolly  felt  a  sort  of  sickness  steal  over  her  as 


MOTHS.  221 


she  saw  the  look  in  his  eyes  which  Yere  did 
not  see. 

*  It  will  be  horrible  !  horrible  ! '  she  said  to 
herself.  '  Why  did  Adiiie  ever  tell  me  to  come 
here  ?  ' 

For  Lady  Dolly  was  never  in  her  own  eyes 
the  victim  of  her  own  follies,  but  always  that 
of  someone  else's  bad  counsels. 

Lady  Dolly  was  frightened  when  she  thought 
that  it  was  possible  that  this  scorner  of  un- 
married women  would  be  won  by  her  own  child. 
But  she  was  yet  more  terrified  when  the  pro- 
bable hopelessness  of  any  such  project  flashed 
on  her. 

The  gift  of  the  dog  might  mean  everything, 
and  might  mean  nothing. 

'  Wliat  a  constant  misery  she  is !  '  she 
mused.  ^  Oh,  why  wasn't  she  a  boy  ?  They 
go  to  Eton,  and  if  they  get  into  trouble  men 
manage  it  all ;  and  they  are  useful  to  go  about 
with  if  you  want  stalls  at  a  theatre,  or  an 
escort  that  don't  compromise  you.  But  a 
daughter !....' 

She  could  have  cried,  dressed  though  she  was 


222  MOTHS. 


for  dinner,  in  a  combination  of  orange  and 
deadleaf,  that  would  have  consoled  any  woman 
under  any  affliction. 

'  Do  you  think  he  means  it,'  she  whispered 
to  Lady  Stoat,  who  answered  cautiously,— 

'  I  think  he  might  be  made  to  mean  it.' 

Lady  Dolly  sighed,  and  looked  nervous. 

Two  days  later  Loris  had  a  silver  collar  on 
his  neck  that  had  just  come  from  Paris.  It 
had  the  inscription  on  it  of  the  Troubadour's 
motto  for  his  mistress's  falcon  : 

'  Quiconque  me  trouvera,  quHl  me  mene  a  ma 
maitresse  :  pour  recompense  il  la  verra.' 

Yere  looked  doubtfully  at  the  collar;  she 
preferred  Loris  without  it. 

'  He  does  mean  it,'  said  Lady  Dolly  to  her- 
self, and  her  pulses  fluttered  strangely. 

'  I'd  have  given  you  a  dog  if  I'd  known  you 
wished  for  one,'  said  John  Jura  moodily  that 
evening  to  Vere.  She  smiled  and  thanked 
him. 

^  I  had  so  many  dogs  about  me  at  Bulmer 
I  feel  lost  without  one,  and  Loris  is  very 
beautiful ' 


MOTHS.  223 


Jura  looked  at  her  with  close  scrutiny. 

'  How  do  you  like  the  giver  of  Loris  ? ' 

Vere  met  his  gaze  unmoved. 

'  I  do  not  like  him  at  all,'  she  said  in  a  low 
tone.  '  But  perhaps  it  is  not  sincere  to  say  so. 
He  is  very  kind,  and  we  are  in  his  house.' 

'  My  dear !  That  we  are  in  his  house  or 
that  he  is  in  ours  is  the  very  reason  to  abuse  a 
manlike  a  thief!  You  don't  seem  to  under- 
stand modern  ethics,'  said  the  heroine  of  the 
flea  epic,  as  she  passed  near  with  a  little  laugh, 
oil  her  way  to  play  cliemin  cle  fer  in  the  next 
drawing-room. 

'Don't  listen  to  them,'  said  Jura  hastily. 
'  They  will  do  you  no  good ;  they  are  all  a  bad 
lot  here.' 

'  But  they  are  all  gentle-peojDle  ?  '  said  Vere 
in  some  astonishment.  '  They  are  all  gentle- 
men and  gentlewomen  born.' 

*  Oh,  horn  ! '  said  Jura,  with  immeasurable 
contempt.  '  Oh  yes !  they're  all  in  the  swim 
for  that  matter ;  but  they  are  about  as  bad  a 
set  as  there  is  in  Europe ;  not  but  what  it  is 
much   the   same    everywhere.     They   say  the 


224  MOTHS. 


Second  Empire  did  it.  I  don't  know  if  it's 
that,  but  I  do  know  that  "  gentlewomen,"  as 
you  call  it,  are  things  one  never  sees  nowadays 
anywhere  in  Paris  or  London.  You  have  got 
the  old  grace,  but  how  long  will  you  keep  it  ? 
They  will  corrupt  you;  and  if  they  can't, 
they'll  ruin  you.' 

*  Is  it  so  easy  to  be  corrupted  or  to  be 
ruined  ?  ' 

'  Easy  as  blacking  your  glove,'  said  Jura 
moodily. 

Vere  gave  a  little  sigh.  Life  seemed  to  her 
very  difficult. 

*  I  do  not  think  they  will  change  me,'  she 
said,  after  a  few  moments'  thought. 

'  I  don't  think  they  will ;  but  they  will 
make  you  pay  for  it.  If  they  say  nothing 
worse  of  you  than  that  you  are  "  odd,"  you  will 
be  lucky.  How  did  you  become  what  you 
were  ?    You,  Dolly's  daughter  ! ' 

Vere  coloured  at  the  unconscious  contempt 
with  which  he  spoke  the  two  last  words. 

'I  try  to  be  what  my  father  would  have 
wished,'  she  said  under  her  breath. 


MOTHS,  225 


Jura  was  touched.  His  blue  eyes  grew 
dim  and  reverential. 

*I  wish  to  heaven  your  father  may  watch 
over  you  !  '  he  said  in  a  husky  voice.  '  In  our 
world,  my  dear,  you  will  want  some  good 
angel — bitterly.  Perhaps  you  will  be  your 
own,  though.     I  hope  so.'     •» 

His  hand  sought  hers  and  caught  it  closely 
for  an  instant,  and  he  grew  very  pale.  Yere 
looked  up  in  a  little  surprise. 

'  You  are  very  kind  to  think  of  me,'  she 
said  with  a  certain  emotion. 

'  Who  would  not  think  of  you  ?  '  muttered 
Jura,  with  a  darkness  on  his  frank,  fair,  bold 
face.  '  Don't  be  so  astonished  that  I  do,'  he 
said,  with  a  little  laugh,  whose  irony  she  did 
not  understand.  'You  know  I  am  such  a 
friend  of  your  mother's   ' 

'  Yes,'  said  Yere  gravely* 

She  was  perplexed.  He  took  up  her  fan 
and  unfurled  it. 

'Who  gave  you  this  thing?  It  is  an  old 
one  of  Dolly's,  I  bought  it  in  the  Passage 
Choiseul  myself;  it's  not  half  good  enough  for 

VOL.    I.  Q 


226  MOTHS. 


you  now.  I  bought  one  at  Christie's  last  win- 
ter, that  belonged  to  Maria  Teresa ;  it  has  her 
monogram  in  opals;  it  was  painted  by 
Fragonard,  or  one  of  those  beggars  ;  I  will  send 
for  it  for  you  if  you  will  please  me  by  taking  it.' 

'  You  are  very  kind/  said  Vere. 

'  That  is  what 'you  say  of  Serge  Zouroff ! ' 

She  laughed  a  little. 

'I  like  you  better  than  Monsieur  ZouroiF.' 

Jura's  face  flushed  to  the  roots  of  his  fair 
crisp  curls. 

'  And  as  well  as  your  favoured  singer  ?  ' 

'  Ah  no  ! ' — ^Vere  spoke  quickly,  and  with  a 
frown  on  her  pretty  brows.  She  was  annoyed 
at  the  mention  of  Correze. 

Lady  Dolly  approached  at  that  moment — 
an  apparition  of  white  lace  and  nenuphars,  with 
some  wonderful  old  cameos  as  ornaments. 

'  Take  me  to  the  tea-room.  Jack,'  she  said 
sharply.  '  Clementine  de  Vrille  is  winning 
everything  again ;  it  is  sickening ;  I  believe 
she  marks  the  aces  !  ' 

Jura  gave  her  his  arm. 

Vere,  left  alone^  sat  lost  in  thought.      It 


MOTHS.  227 


was  a  strange  world.  No  one  seemed  happy  in 
it,  or  sincere.  Lord  Jura,  whom  her  mother 
treated  like  a  brother,  seemed  to  despise  her 
more  than  anyone ;  and  her  mother  seemed  to 
say  that  another  friend,  who  was  a  French 
Duchess,  descended  from  a  Valois,  was  guilty 
of  cheating  at  cards  ! 

Jura  took  the  white  lace  and  nenuphars  into 
the  tea-room.  He  was  silent  and  preoccupied. 
Lady  Dolly  wanted  pretty  attentions,  but  their 
day  was  over  with  him. 

'Is  it  true,'  he  said  abruptly  to  her,  'that 
Zouroff  wants  your  daughter  ?  ' 

Lady  Dolly  smiled  vaguely. 

'  Oh  !  I  don't  know  ;  they  say  many  things, 
you  know.  No ;  I  shouldn't  suppose  he  means 
anything,  should  you  ?  ' 

'I  can't  say,'  he  answered  curtly.  'You 
wish  it.' 

'  Of  course  I  wish  anything  for  her  happi- 
ness.' 

He  laughed  aloud. 

'  What  damned  hypocrites  all  you  women 
are ! ' 

92 


228  MOTHS. 


'  My  dear  Jura,  jpray  !  you  are  not  in  a 
guard-room  or  a  club-room !  '  said  Lady  Dolly 
very  seriously  shocked  indeed. 

Lord  Jura  got  her  off  his  hands  at  length, 
and  bestowed  her  on  a  young  dandy,  who  had 
become  famous  by  winning  the  Grand  Prix  in 
that  summer.  Then  he  walked  away  by  him- 
self into  the  smoking-room,  which  at  that  hour 
was  quite  deserted.  He  threw  himself  down 
on  one  of  the  couches,  and  thought — moodily, 
impatiently,  bitterly. 

'  What  cursed  fools  we  are  !  '  he  mused. 
What  a  fool  he  had  been  ever  to  fancy  that  he 
loved  the  bloom  of  Fiver's  powders,  the  slim 
shape  of  a  white  satin  corset,  the  falsehoods  of  a 
dozen  seasons,  the  debts  of  a  little  gamester,  the 
smiles  of  a  calculating  coquette,  and  the  five 
hundred  things  of  like  value,  that  made  up  the 
human  entity,  known  as  Lady  Dolly 

He  could  see  her,  as  he  had  seen  her  first ;  a 
little  gossamer  figure  under  the  old  elms,  down 
by  the  waterside  at  Hurlingham,  when  Hurling- 
ham  had  been  in  its  earliest  natal  days  of  glory. 
There  had  been  a  dinner-party  for  a  Sunday 


MOTHS.  229 


evening ;  he  remembered  carrying  her  tea,  and 
picking  her  out  the  big  strawberries  under  the 
cedar.  They  had  met  a  thousand  times  before 
that,  but  had  never  spoken.  He  thought  her 
the  prettiest  creature  he  had  ever  seen.  She 
had  told  him  to  call  on  her  at  Chesham  jDlace  ; 
she  was  always  at  home  at  four.  He  remem- 
bered their  coming  upon  a  dead  pigeon  amongst 
the  gardenias,  and  how  she  had  laughed,  and 
told  him  to  write  its  elegy,  and  he  had  said 
that  he  would  if  he  could  only  spell,  but  he  had 
never  been  able  to  spell  in  his  life.  All  the 
nonsense,  all  the  trifles,  came  back  to  his 
memory  in  a  hateful  clearness.  That  was  five 
years  ago,  and  she  was  as  pretty  as  ever  :  Piver 
is  the  true  fontaine  de  jouvence.  She  was  not 
changed,  but  he — he  wished  that  he  had  been 
dead  like  the  blue-rock  amongst  the  gardenias. 
He  thought  of  a  serious  sweet  face,  a  noble 
mouth,  a  low  broad  brow,  with  the  fair  hair 
lying  thickly  above  it. 

'  Good  God ! '  he  thought,  '  who  would  ever 
have  dreamt  that  she  could  have  had  such  a 
daughter  ! ' 


230  MOTHS. 


And  his  heart  was  sick,  and  his  meditation 
was  bitter.  He  was  of  a  loyal,  faithful,  dog-like 
temper;  yet  in  that  moment  he  turned  in  revolt 
against  the  captivity  that  had  once  seemed 
sweet,  and  he  hated  the  mother  of  Vere. 

A  little  later  Lord  Jura  told  his  host  that 
he  was  very  sorry,  regretted  infinitely,  and  all 
that,  but  he  was  obliged  to  go  up  to  Scotland. 
His  father  had  a  great  house-party  there,  and 
would  have  no  denial. 

Alone,  Lady  Dolly  said  to  him,  '  What  does 
this  mean  ?  what  is  this  for  ?  You  know  you 
never  go  to  Camelot ;  you  know  that  you  go  to 
every  other  house  in  the  kingdom  sooner. 
What  did  you  say  it  for  ?  And  how  dare  you 
say  it  without  seeing  if  it  suit  me  ?  It  doesn't 
suit  me.' 

'  I  put  it  on  Camelot  because  it  sounds  more 
decent;  and  I  mean  to  go,'  said  Lord  Jura, 
plunging  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  'The  truth 
is,  Dolly,  I  don't  care  to  be  in  this  blackguard's 
house.  He  is  a  blackguard,  and  you're  wanting 
to  get  him.' 

Lady  Dolly  turned  pale  and  sick. 


MOTHfS.  231 


'  What  language  !  How  is  he  any  more  a — 
what  you  say — than  you  are,  or  anybody  else  ? 
And  pray  for  what  do  I  want  him  ? ' 

The  broad  frank  brows  of  Lord  Jura  grew 
stormy  as  he  frowned. 

'  The  man  is  a  blackguard.  There  are  things 
one  can't  say  to  women.  Everybody  knows  it. 
You  don't  care ;  you  want  to  get  him  for  the 
child.' 

'  Vera  ?  Grood  gracious  !  What  is  Yera  to 
you  if  it  be  what  you  fancy  ? ' 

'  Nothing !  '  said  Lord  Jura,  and  his  lips 
were  pressed  close  together,  and  he  did  not  look 
at  his  companion. 

'  Then  why — I  should  think  she  isn't,  in- 
deed ! — but  why,  in  the  name  of  goodness ' 

'  Look  here,  Dolly,'  said  the  young  man 
sternly.  '  Look  here.  I'm  death  on  sport,  and 
I've  kiUed  most  things,  from  stripes  in  the 
jungle  to  the  red  rover  in  the  furrows ;  I  don't 
affect  to  be  a  feeling  fellow,  or  to  go  in  for  that 
sort  of  sentiment,  but  there  was  one  thing  I 
never  could  stand  seeing,  and  that  was  a  little 
innocent  wild  rabbit  caught  in  a  gin-fcrap.     My 


232  MOTHS, 


keepers  daren't  set  one  for  their  lives.  I  can't 
catch  you  by  the  throat,  or  throttle  Zouroff  as 
I  should  a  keeper  if  I  caught  him  at  it,  so  I  go 
to  Camelot.  That's  all.  Don't  make  a  fuss. 
You're  going  to  do  a  wicked  thing,  if  you  can 
do  it,  and  I  won't  look  on ;  that's  all.' 

Lady  Dolly  was  very  frightened. 

'What  do  you  know  about  Zouroff?'  she 
murmured  hurriedly. 

'  Only  what  all  Paris  knows ;  that  is  quite 
enough.' 

Lady  Dolly  was  relieved,  and  instantly  al- 
lowed herself  to  grow  angry. 

'  All  Paris !  Such  stuff !  As  if  men  were 
not  all  alike.  Really  one  would  fancy  you  were 
in  love  with  Vera  yourself ! ' 

'  Stop  that ! '  said  Lord  Jura  sternly ;  and 
she  was  subdued,  and  said  no  more.  '  I  shall 
go  tomorrow,'  he  added  carelessly;  'and  you 
inay  as  well  give  me  a  book  or  a  note  or  some- 
thing for  the  women  at  Camelot ;  it  will  stay 
heir  tongues  here.' 

'  I  have  a  tapestry  pattern  to  send  to  your 
sisters,'  said  Lady  Dolly,  submissive  but  infuri- 


MOTHS,  233 


ated.  '  What  do  jou  know  about  Sergius  Zou- 
roff,  Jack  ?     I  wish  you  would  tell  me.' 

^  I  think  JOU  know  it  all  very  well,'  said 
Lord  Jura.  '  I  think  you  women  know  all 
about  all  the  vices  under  the  sun,  only  you 
don't  mind.  There  are  always  bookcases  locked 
in  every  library;  I  don't  know  why  we  lock  'em  ; 
women  know  everything.  But  if  the  man's 
rich  it  don't  matter.  If  the  fellows  we  used  to 
read  about  in  Suetonius  were  alive  now,  you'd 
marry  your  girls  to  them  and  never  ask  any 
questions — except  about  settlements.  It's  no 
use  my  saying  anything ;  you  don't  care.  But 
I  tell  you  aU  the  same  that  if  you  give  your 
daughter  when  she's  scarce  sixteen  to  that  brute, 
you  might  just  as  well  strip  her  naked  and  set 
her  up  to  auction  like  the  girl  in  La  Coupe  ou 
La  Femme ! ' 

*You  grow  very  coarse,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
coldly. 

Lord  Jura  left  the  room,  and,  in  the  morning, 
left  the  house. 

As  the  *Ephemeris'  went  slowly,  in  a 
languid  wind,  across  the  channel  in  the  grey 


234  MOTHS. 


twiliglit,  he  sat  on  deck  and  smoked,  and  grew 
heavy-liearted.  He  was  not  a  book-learned 
man,  and  seldom  read  anything  beyond  the 
sporting  papers,  or  a  French  romance ;  but 
some  old  verse,  abont  the  Fates  making  out  of 
our  pleasant  vices  whips  to  scourge  ns  crossed 
his  mind,  as  the  woods  and  towers  of  Felicite 
receded  from  his  sight. 

He  was  young ;  he  was  his  own  master  ;  he 
was  Earl  of  Jura,  and  would  be  Marquis  of 
Shetland.  He  could  have  looked  into  those 
grand  grey  eyes  of  Vere  Herbert's  with  a  franlv 
and  honest  love ;  he  could  have  been  happy, 
only — only — only  ! 

The  Maria  Theresa  fan  came  from  Camelot, 
but  Jura  never  returned. 

That  night  there  was  a  performance  in  the 
little  theatre ;  there  was  usually  one  every 
other  night.  The  actors  enjoyed  themselves 
much  more  than  the  guests  at  Felicite.  They 
all  lived  in  a  little  maisonette  in  the  park,  idled 
through  their  days  as  they  liked,  and  played 
when  they  were  told.  When  his  house  party 
bored  him  beyond  endurance,  Sergius  Zouroff 


MOTHS.  235 


wandered  away  to  that  maisonette  in  liis  park 
at  midnight. 

That  evening  the  piece  on  the  programme 
was  one  that  was  very  light.  Zouroff  stooped 
his  head  to  Lady  Dolly  as  they  were  about  to 
move  to  the  theatre. 

'  Send  your  daughter  to  her  bed ;  that 
piece  is  not  fit  for  her  ears.' 

Lady  Dolly  stared  and  bit  her  lij).  But  she 
obeyed.  She  went  back  and  touched  Yere's 
cheek  with  her  fan  and  caressed  her. 

'  My  sweet  one,  you  look  pale.  Go  to  your 
room ;  you  do  not  care  much  for  acting,  and 
your  health  is  so  precious ' 

'He  must  mean  it,'  she  thought,  as  they 
went  into  the  pretty  theatre,  and  the  lights 
went  round  with  her.  The  jests  fell  on  deaf 
ears  so  far  as  she  was  concerned ;  the  dazzling 
little  scenes  danced  before  her  sight ;  she  could 
only  see  the  heavy  form  of  Zouroff  cast  down 
in  his  velvet  chair,  with  his  eyes  half  shut, 
and  his  thick  eyebrows  drawn  together  in  a 
frown  that  did  not  relax. 

'  He  must  mean  it,'  she  thought.      '  But 


230  MOTHS, 


how  odd  !  Good  heavens !  that  he  should  care 
— that  he  should  think — of  what  is  fit  or 
unfit ! ' 

And  it  made  her  laugh  convulsively,  in  a 
sort  of  spasm  of  mirth,  for  which  the  gestures 
and  jokes  of  the  scene  gave  excuse. 

Yet  she  had  never  felt  so  nearly  wretched, 
never  so  nearly  understood,  what  shame  and 
repentance  meant. 

In  the  entr'acte  Zouroff  changed  his  place, 
and  took  a  vacant  chair  by  Lady  Dolly,  and 
took  up  her  fan  and  played  with  it. 

'  Miladi,  we  have  always  been  friends,  good 
friends,  have  we  not  ?  '  he  said  with  the  smile 
that  she  hated.  '  You  know  me  well,  and  can 
judge  me  without  flattery.  What  will  you  say 
if  I  tell  you  that  I  seek  the  honour  of  your 
daughter's  hand  ? ' 

He  folded  and  unfolded  the  fan  as  he  spoke. 
The  orchestra  played  at  that  moment  loudly. 
Lady  Dolly  was  silent.  There  was  a  contrac- 
tion at  the  corners  of  her  pretty  rosebud-like 
mouth. 

'  Any  mother  could  have  but  one  answer  to 


MOTHS.  237 


you,'  she   replied  with   an   effort.     'You  are 
too  good,  and  I  am  too  happy  ! ' 

*  I  may  speak  to  her,  then,  to-morrow,  with 
your  consent  ?  '  he  added. 

*  Let  me  speak  to  her  first,'  she  said  hur- 
riedly ;  '  she  is  so  young.' 

'As  you  will,  madame  !  Place  myself  and 
all  I  have  at  her  feet.' 

'  What  can  you  have  seen  in  her !  Good 
heavens  ! '  she  cried  in  an  impulse  of  amaze. 

'  She  has  avoided  me  ! '  said  Serge  Zouroff, 
and  spoke  the  truth :  then  added  in  his  best 
manner,  '  And  is  she  not  your  child  ? ' 

The  violins  chirped  softly  as  waking 
birds  at  dawn ;  the  satin  curtain  drew  up ; 
the  little  glittering  scene  shone  again  in  the 
wax-light.  Lady  Dolly  gasped  a  little  for 
breath. 

'It  is  very  warm  here,  she  murmured. 
*  Don't  you  think  if  a  window  were  opened 
And  then  you  have  astonished  me  so ' 

She  shook  double  her  usual  drops  of  chloral 
out  into  her  glass  that  night,  but  they  did  not 
give  her  sleep. 


MOTHS. 


'  I  shall  never  persuade  her !  '  she  thought ; 
gazing  with  dry,  hot  eyes  at  the  light  swinging 
before  her  mirror.  The  eyes  of  Vere  seemed 
to  look  at  her  in  their  innocent,  scornful 
serenity,  and  the  eyes  of  Vere's  father  too. 

'  Do  the  dead  ever  come  back  ? '  she 
thought ;  '  some  people  say  they  do.' 

And  Lady  Dolly,  between  her  soft  sheets, 
shivered,  and  felt  frightened  and  old. 

She  was  on  the  edge  of  a  crime,  and  she 
had  a  conscience,  though  it  was  a  very  small 
and  feeble  one,  and  seldom  spoke. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Vere  had  been  up  with  the  sunrise,  and  out 
with  Loris.  She  had  had  the  pretty  green 
park  and  the  dewy  gardens  to  herself ;  she  had 
filled  her  hands  with  more  flowers  than  she 
could  carry ;  her  hair  and  her  clothes  were  fra- 
grant with  the  smell  of  mown  grass  and  pressed 
thyme ;  she  stole  back  on  tiptoe  through  the 
long  corridors,  through  the  still  house,  for  it 
was  only  nine  o'clock,  and  she  knew  that  all 
the  guests  of  Felicite  were  still  sleeping. 

To  her  surprise  her  mother's  door  opened, 
and  her  mother's  voice  called  her. 

Vere  went  in,  fresh  and  bright  as  was  the 
summer  morning  itself,  with  the  dew  upon  her 


240  MOTHS. 


hair  and  the  smell  of  the  blossoms  entering 
with  her,  into  the  warm  oppressive  air  that 
was  laden  with  the  smells  of  anodynes  and  per- 
fumes. 

Her  mother  had  already  been  made  pretty 
for  the  day,  and  a  lovely  turquoise-blue  dressing- 
robe  enveloped  her.  She  opened  her  arms,  and 
folded  the  child  in  them,  and  touched  her  fore- 
head with  a  kiss. 

*  My  darling,  my  sweet  child,'  she  mur- 
mured, '  I  have  some  wonderful  news  for  you ; 
news  that  makes  me  very  happy.  Vera ' 

*  Yes  ? '  said  Vere,  standing  with  wide-opened 
expectant  eyes,  the  flowers  falling  about  her, 
the  dew  sparkling  on  her  hair. 

'  Yes,  too  happy,  my  Vera,  since  it  secures 
your  happiness,'  murmured  her  mother.  '  But 
perhaps  you  can  guess,  dear,  though  you  are  so 
very  young,  and  you  do  not  even  know  what 
love  means.  Vera,  my  sweetest,  my  old  friend 
Prince  Zouroff  has  sought  you  from  me  in 
marriage  ! ' 

*  Mother  ! '  Vere  stepped  backward,  then 
stood  still  again ;  a  speechless  amaze,  an  utter 


MOTHS,  241 


incredulity,  an  unutterable  disgust,  all  speaking 
in  her  face. 

'  Are  you  startled,  darling,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
in  her  blandest  voice.  '  Of  course  you  are,  you 
are  such  a  child.  But  if  you  think  a  moment, 
Vera,  you  will  see  the  extreme  compliment  it  is 
to  you ;  the  greatness  it  offers  you ;  the  security 
that  the  devotion  of  a ' 

'Mother!'  she  cried  again;  and  this  time 
the  word  was  a  cry  of  horror — a  protest  of 
indignation  and  outrage. 

'  Don't  call  me  "  mother  "  like  that.  You 
know  I  hate  it !  '  said  Lady  Dolly,  lapsing  into 
the  tone  most  natural  to  her.  ' "  Mother ! 
mother !  "  as  if  I  were  beating  you  with  a 
poker,  like  the  people  in  the  police  reports. 
You  are  so  silly,  my  dear ;  I  cannot  think  what 
he  can  have  seen  in  you,  but  seen  something 
he  has,  enough  to  make  him  wish  to  marry 
you.  You  are  a  baby,  but  I  suppose  you  can 
understand  that.  It  is  a  very  great  and  good 
marriage.  Vera ;  no  one  could  desire  anything 
better.  You  are  exceedingly  young,  indeed, 
according  to  English  notions,  but  they  never 
VOL.   I.  E 


MOTHS. 


were  my  notions,  and  I  think  a  girl  cannot 
anyhow  be  safer  than  properly  married  to  a 
person  desirable  in  every  way ' 

Lady  Dolly  paused  a  moment  to  take  breath ; 
she  felt  a  little  excited,  a  little  exhausted,  and 
there  was  that  in  the  colourless  face  of  her 
daughter  which  frightened  her,  as  she  had  been 
frightened  in  her  bed,  wondering  if  the  dead 
came  back  on  earth. 

She  made  a  little  forward  caressing  move- 
ment, and  would  have  kissed  her  again,  but 
Yere  moved  away,  her  eyes  were  darkened 
with  anger,  and  her  lips  were  tremulous. 

'  Prince  ZourofP  is  a  coward,'  said  the  girl, 
very  low,  but  very  bitterly.  ^  He  knows  that 
T  loathe  him,  and  that  I  think  him  a  bad  man. 
How  dare  he — how  dare  he — insult  me  so  !  ' 

'  Insult  you ! '  echoed  Lady  Dolly,  with 
almost  a  scream.  'Are  you  mad?  Insult 
you  !  A  man  that  all  Europe  has  been  wild  to 
marry  these  fifteen  years  past !  Insult  you ! 
A  man  who  offers  you  an  alliance  that  will 
send  you  out  of  a  room  before  everybody  except 
actually  princesses  of  the  blood  ?    Insult  you ! 


MOTHS.  243 


When  was  ever  an  offer  of  marriage  thought 
an  insult  in  society  ?  ' 

'  I  think  it  can  be  the  greatest  one,'  said 
Yere,  still  under  her  breath. 

'  You  think !  Who  are  you  to  think  ? 
Pray  have  no  thoughts  at  all  unless  they  are 
wiser  than  that.  You  are  startled,  my  dear; 
that  is  perhaps  natural.  You  did  not  see  he 
was  in  love  with  you,  though  everyone  else 
did.' 

'  Oh,  do  not  say  such  horrible  words  !  ' 

The  blood  rushed  to  the  child's  face,  and 
she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands.  She  was 
hurt,  deeply,  passionately — hurt  and  humiliated, 
in  a  way  that  her  mother  could  no  more  have 
understood  than  she  could  have  understood  the 
paths  travelled  by  the  invisible  stars. 

'Eeally  you  are  too  ridiculous,'  she  said 
impatiently.  '  Even  you,  I  should  think,  must 
know  what  love  means.  I  believe  even  at 
Bulmer  you  read  "Waverley."  You  have 
charmed  Sergius  Zouroff,  and  it  is  a  very  great 
victory,  and  if  all  this  surprise  and  disgust  at 
it  is  not  a  mere  piece  of  acting,  yon  must  be 

r2 


244  MOTHf^. 


absolutely  brainless^  absolutely  idiotic !  You 
cannot  seriously  mean  that  a  man  insults  you 
when  he  offers  you  a  position  that  has  been 
coveted  by  half  Europe.' 

'When  he  knows  that  I  cannot  endure 
him/  said  Yere  with  flashing  eyes ;  'it  is  an 
insult ;  tell  him  so  from  me.  Oh  mother ! 
mother !  that  you  could  even  call  me  to  hear 
such  a  thing.  ...  I  do  not  want  to  marry 
anj'one  ;  I  do  not  wish  ever  to  marry.  Let  me 
go  back  to  Bulmer.  I  am  not  made  for  the 
world,  nor  it  for  me.' 

'  You  are  not,  indeed  ! '  said  her  mother  in 
exasperation  and  disgust,  feeling  her  own  rage 
and  anxiety  like  two  strangling  hands  at  her 
throat.  *  Nevertheless,  into  the  world  you  will 
go  as  Princess  Zouroff.  The  alliance  suits  me, 
and  I  am  not  easily  dissuaded  from  what  I 
wish.  Your  heroics  count  for  nothing.  All 
girls  of  sixteen  are  gushing  and  silly.  I  was 
too.  It  is  an  immense  thing  that  you  have 
such  a  stroke  of  good  fortune.  I  quite  des- 
paired of  you.  You  are  very  lovely,  but  you 
are  old-fashioned,  pedantic,  unpleasant.     You 


MOTHS.  245 


have  no  chic.  You  have  no  malleability.  You 
are  handsome,  and  that  is  all.  It  is  a  wonder- 
ful thing  that  you  should  have  made  such  a 
coup  as  this  before  you  are  even  out.  You  are 
quite  penniless ;  quite,  did  you  understand 
that?  You  have  no  claim  on  Mr.  Yander- 
decken,  and  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  he  will 
not  make  a  great  piece  of  work  when  I  leave 
him  to  pay  for  jo\xv  trousseau^  as  I  must  do, 
for  I  can't  pay  for  it,  and  none  of  the  Herberts 
will;  they  are  all  poor  and  proud  as  church 
mice,  and  though  Zouroff  will  of  course  send 
you  a  corheille,  all  the  rest  must  come  from  me, 
and  must  be  perfect  and  abundant,  and  from  all 
the  best  houses.' 

Yere  struck  her  foot  on  the  floor.  It  was 
the  first  gesture  of  passion  that  she  had  ever 
given  way  to  since  her  birth. 

'  That  is  enough,  mother ! '  she  said  aloud 
and  very  firmly.  'Put  it  in  what  words  you 
like  to  Prince  ZourofP,  but  tell  him  from  me 
that  I  will  not  marry  him.  I  will  not.  That 
is  enough.' 

Then,  before  her  mother  could  speak  again, 


240  MOTES. 


she  gathered  up  the  dew-wet  flowers  m  her 
hand  and  left  the  room. 

Lady  Dolly  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and 
swore  a  little  naughty  oath,  as  if  she  had  lost 
fifty  pounds  at  bezique. 

She  was  pale  and  excited,  offended  and  very 
angry,  but  she  was  not  afraid.  Girls  were 
always  like  that,  she  thought.  Only,  for  the 
immediate  moment  it  was  difficult. 

She  sat  and  meditated  awhile,  then  made 
up  her  mind.  She  had  nerved  herself  in  the 
night  that  was  just  past  to  put  her  child  in  the 
brazen  hands  of  Moloch  because  it  suited  her, 
because  it  served  her,  because  she  had  let  her 
little  weak  conscience  sink  utterly,  and  down 
in  the  deeps ;  and  having  once  made  up  her 
mind  she  was  resolved  to  have  her  will.  Like 
all  weak  people,  she  could  be  cruel,  and  she 
was  cruel  now. 

When  the  midday  chimes  rang  with  music 
from  the  clock-tower,  Lady  Dolly  went  out  of 
her  own  room  downstairs.  It  was  the  habit  at 
Felicite  for  the  guests  to  meet  at  a  one  o'clock 
breakfast — being  in  the  country  they  thought 


MOTHS.  247 


it  well  to  rise  early.     Serge  Zouroff,  as  he  met 
her,  smiled. 

*  Eh  lien  ? '  he  asked. 

The  smile  made  Lady  Dolly  feel  sick  and 
cold,  but  she  looked  softly  into  his  eyes. 

'Dear  friend,  do  not  be  in  haste.  My 
child  is  such  a  child — she  is  flattered — deeply 
moved — but  startled.  She  has  no  thought  of 
any  such  ideas,  you  know;  she  can  scarcely 
understand.  Leave  her  to  me  for  a  day  or 
two.  Do  not  hurry  her.  This  morning,  if  you 
will  lend  me  a  pony  carriage,  I  will  drive  over 
with  her  to  Le  Caprice  and  stay  a  night  or 
so.     I  shall  talk  to  her,  and  then ' 

Zouroff  laughed  grimly. 

'  Ma  helle,  your  daughter  detests  me  ;  but  I 
do  not  mind  that.  You  may  say  it  out ;  it  will 
make  no  difference — to  us.' 

*  You  are  wrong  there,'  said  Lady  Dolly  so 
blandly  and  serenely  that  even  he  was  deceived, 
and  believed  her  for  once  to  be  speaking  the 
truth.  '  She  neither  Ukes  you  nor  dislikes  you, 
because  her  mind  is  in  its  chrysalis  state — isn't 
it  a  chrysalis,  the  thing  that  is  rolled  up  in  a 


248  MOTHS. 


shell  asleep? — and  of  love  and  marriage  my 
Vera  is  as  unconscious  as  those  china  children 
yonder  holding  up  the  breakfast  bouquets.  She 
is  cold,  you  know;  that  you  see  for  your- 
self  ' 

'  Tin  heau  defaut ! ' 

'  Un  heau  defaut  in  a  girl/  assented  Lady 
Dolly.  '  Yes.  I  would  not  have  her  otherwise, 
my  poor  fatherless  darling,  nor  would  you,  I 
know.  But  it  makes  it  difficult  to  bring  her 
to  say  '  yes,'  you  see ;  not  because  she  has  any 
feeling  against  you,  but  simply  because  she  has 
no  feeling  at  all  as  yet.  Unless  girls  are  pre- 
cocious it  is  always  so — hush — don't  let  them 
overhear  us.  We  don't  want  it  talked  about  at 
present,  do  we  ? ' 

'  As  you  like,'  said  ZourofP  moodily. 

He  was  offended,  and  yet  he  was  pleased ; 
offended  because  he  was  used  to  instantaneous 
victory,  pleased  because  this  grey-eyed  maiden 
proved  of  the  stuff  that  he  had  fancied  her.  For 
a  moment  he  thought  he  would  take  the  task  of 
persuasion  out  of  her  mother's  hands  and  into 
his  own,  but  he  was  an  indolent  man,  and  effort 


MOTHS.  249 


was  disagreeable  to  him,  and  he  was  worried  at 
that  moment  by  the  pretensions  of  one  of  the 
actresses  at  the  maisonette  a  mile  off  across  the 
park. 

'  My  Vera  is  not  very  well  this  morning.  She 
has  got  a  little  chill/  volunteered  Lady  Dolly 
to  Madame  Nelaguine,  and  the  table  generally. 

'  I  saw  Miss  Herbert  in  the  gardens  as  I 
went  to  bed  at  sunrise,'  said  Fuschia  Leach 
in  her  high  far-reaching  voice.  '  I  surmise 
morning  dew  is  bad  for  the  health.' 

People  laughed.  It  was  felt  there  was 
*  something '  about  Vere  and  her  absence,  and 
the  women  were  inclined  to  think  that,  despite 
Loris  and  the  silver  collar,  their  host  had  not 
come  to  the  point,  and  Lady  Dolly  was  about 
to  retreat. 

'  After  all,  it  would  be  preposterous,'  they 
argued.  'A  child,  not  even  out,  and  one  of 
those  Mull  Herberts  without  a  penny.' 

'  Won't  you  come  down  ?  '  said  Lady  Dolly 
sharply  to  Yere  a  little  later. 

'  I  will  come  down  if  I  may  say  the  truth  to 
Prince  Zouroff.' 


250  MOTHS. 


'  Until  you  accept  him  you  will  say  nothing 
to  him.  It  is  impossible  to  keep  you  here 
houdant  like  this.  It  becomes  ridiculous.  What 
will  all  those  women  say  !  .  .  .  I  will  drive  you 
over  to  Laure's.  We  will  stay  there  a  few 
days,  and  you  will  hear  reason.' 

'  I  will  not  marry  Prince  Zouroff,'  said  Yere. 

After  her  first  disgust  and  anger  that  subject 
scarcely  troubled  her.  They  could  not  marry 
her  against  her  will.  She  had  only  to  be  firm, 
she  thought ;  and  her  nature  was  firm  almost 
to  stubbornness. 

'  We  will  see,'  said  her  mother,  drily.  '  Get 
ready  to  go  with  me  in  an  hour.' 

Vere,  left  to  herself,  undid  the  collar  of 
Loris,  made  it  in  a  packet,  and  wrote  a  little 
note,  which  said  : — 

'  I  thank  you  very  much.  Monsieur,  for  the 
honour  that  I  hear  from  my  mother  you  do  me, 
in  your  wish  that  I  should  marry  you.  Yet  I 
wonder  that  you  do  wish  it,  because  you  know 
well  that  I  have  not  that  feeling  for  you  which 
could  make  me  care  for  or  respect  you.     Please 


MOTHS.  261 


to  take  back  this  beautiful  collar,  which  is  too 

heavy  for  Loris.     Loris  I  will  always  keep,  and 

I  am  very  fond  of  him.     I  should  be  glad  if  you 

would  tell  my  mother  that  you  have  had  this 

letter  and  I  beg  you  to  believe  me,  Monsieur, 

yours  gratefully, 

'Verb  Herbert.' 

She  read  the  note  several  times,  and  thought 
that  it  would  do.  She  did  not  like  to  write 
more  coldly,  lest  she  should  seem  heartless,  and 
though  her  first  impulse  had  been  to  look  on 
the  offer  as  an  insult,  perhaps  he  did  not  mean 
it  so,  she  reflected ;  perhaps  he  did  not  under- 
stand how  she  disliked  him.  She  directed  her 
packet,  and  sealed  it,  and  called  her  maid. 

'  Will  you  take  that  to  Monsieur  Zouroff  at 
once,'  she  said.  ^  Give  it  to  him  into  his  own 
hands.' 

The  maid  took  the  packet  to  her  superior, 
Adrienne ;  Adrienne  the  wise  took  it  to  her 
mistress  ;  Lady  Dolly  glanced  at  it  and  put  it 
carelessly  aside. 

'  Ah  !  the  dog's  collar  to  go  to  Paris  to  be 


252  MOTHS, 


enlarged  ?  very  well ;  leave  it  there ;  it  is  of  no 
consequence  jnst  now.' 

Adrienne  the  wise  understood  very  well. 

*If  Mademoiselle  ask  you/  she  instructed 
her  underling,  'you  will  say  that  Monsieur  le 
Prince  had  the  packet  quite  safe.' 

But  Yere  did  not  even  ask,  because  she  had 
not  lived  long  enough  in  the  world  to  doubt  the 
good  faith  even  of  a  waiting-maid.  At  Buhner 
the  servants  were  old-fashioned,  like  the  place, 
and  the  Waverley  novels.  They  told  the  truth, 
as  they  wore  boots  that  wanted  blacking. 

If  the  little  note  had  found  its  way  to  Serge 
Zouroff  it  might  have  touched  his  heart;  it 
would  have  touched  his  pride,  and  Vere  would 
have  been  left  free.  As  it  was,  the  packet  re- 
posed amidst  Lady  Dolly's  pocket-handkerchiefs 
and  perfumes  till  it  was  burnt  with  a  pastille 
in  the  body  of  a  Japanese  dragon. 

Vere,  quite  tranquil,  went  to  Le  Caprice  in 
the  sunny  afternoon  with  her  mother,  never 
doubting  that  Prince  Zouroff  had  had  it. 

She  did  not  see  him,  and  thought  that  it 
was  because  he  liad  read  her  message  and  re- 


MOTHS.  253 


sented  it.  In  point  of  fact  she  did  not  see  him 
because  he  was  at  the  maisonette  in  the  park, 
where  the  feminine  portion  of  the  troop  had 
grown  so  quarrelsome  and  so  exacting  that  they 
were  threatening  to  make  him  a  scene  up  at  the 
chateau. 

'  What  are  your  great  ladies  better  than  we? ' 
they  cried  in  revolt.  He  granted  that  they  were 
no  better;  nevertheless,  the  prejudices  of  society 
were  so  constituted  that  chateau  and  maisonette 
could  not  meet,  and  he  bade  their  director 
bundle  them  all  back  to  Paris,  like  a  cage  of 
dangerous  animals  that  might  at  any  moment 
escape. 

'You  will  be  here  for  the  ball  for  the  Prince 
de  Galles  ? '  said  Princess  Nelaguine  to  Lady 
Dolly ;  who  nodded  and  laughed. 

*  To  be  sure ;  thanks ;  I  only  go  for  a  few 
days,  love.' 

'  Are  we  coming  back  ?  '  said  Vere,  aghast. 

'  Certainly,'  said  her  mother  sharply,  strik- 
ing her  ponies ;  and  the  child's  heart  sank. 

'But  he  will  have  had  my  letter,'  she 
thought, '  and  then  he  will  let  me  alone.' 


254  MOTHS. 


Le  Caprice  was  a  charming  house,  with  a 
charming  chatelaine^  and  charming  people  were 
gathered  in  it  for  the  sea  and  the  shooting ;  but 
Yere  began  to  hate  the  pretty  picturesque 
women,  the  sound  of  the  laughter,  the  babble 
of  society,  the  elegance  and  the  luxury,  and  all 
the  graceful  nothings  that  make  up  the  habits 
and  pleasures  of  a  grand  house.  She  felt  very 
lonely  in  it  all,  and  when,  for  sake  of  her  beauty, 
men  gathered  about  her,  she  seemed  stupid 
because  she  was  filled  .  with  a  shy  terror 
of  them;  perhaps  they  would  want  to  marry 
her  too,  she  thought ;  and  her  fair  low  brow 
got  a  little  frown  on  it  that  made  her  look 
sullen. 

'  Your  daughter  is  lovely,  ma  chere,  but  she 
is  not  sweet-tempered  like  you,'  said  the  hostess 
to  Lady  Dolly,  who  sighed 

^  Ah  no ! '  she  answered,  '  she  is  cross,  poor 
pet,  sometimes,  and  hard  to  please.  Now,  I 
am  never  out  of  temper,  and  any  little  thing 
amuses  me  that  my  friends  are  kind  enough  to 
do.  I  don't  know  where  Yera  got  her  character ; 
from  some  dead  and  gone  Herbert,  I  suppose. 


MOTHS.  265 


who  must  have  been  very  disagreeable  in  his 
generation.' 

And  that  night  and  every  night  she  said  the 
same  thing  to  Vere  :  '  Yon  must  marry  Serge 
Zouroff;'  and  Vere  every  night  replied,  '  I  have 
told  him  I  will  not.     I  will  not.' 

Lady  Dolly  never  let  her  know  that  her 
letter  had  been  burned. 

'  Your  letter  ? '  she  had  said  when  Vere 
spoke  of  it.  '  No  ;  he  never  told  me  anything 
of  it.  But  whatever  you  might  say,  he 
wouldn't  mind  it,  my  dear.  You  take  his 
fancy,  and  he  means  to  marry  you.' 

'  Then  he  is  no  gentleman,'  said  the  girl. 

'  Oh,  about  that,  I  don't  know,'  said  Lady 
Dolly.  'Your  idea  of  a  gentleman,  I  believe, 
is  a  man  who  makes  himself  up  as  Faust  or 
Romeo,  and  screams  for  so  many  guineas  a 
night.     We  won't  discuss  that.' 

Vere's  face  burned,  but  she  was  mute.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  her  mother  had  grown 
coarse  as  well  as  cruel.  There  was  a  hardness 
in  her  mother  that  she  had  never  felt  before. 
That  her  letter  should  have  been  read  by  Serge 


256  MOTHS. 

Zouroff,  yet  make  no  impression  on  him,  seemed 
to  her  so  dastardly  that  it  left  her  no  hope  to 
move  him ;  no  hope  anywhere  except  in  her  own 
resistance. 

Three  days  later,  Prince  Zouroff  drove  over 
to  Le  Caprice,  and  saw  Lady  Dolly  alone. 

Vere  was  not  asked  for,  and  was  thankful. 
Her  eyes  wistfully  questioned  her  mother's 
when  they  met,  but  Lady  Dolly's  were  nnre- 
vealing  and  did  not  meet  her  gaze. 

The  house  was  full  of  movement  and  of 
mirth  ;  there  were  sauteries  every  evening,  and 
distractions  of  all  kinds.  Lady  Dolly  was 
always  flirting,  laughing,  dancing,  amusing 
herself;  Vere  was  silent,  grave,  and  cold, 

'  You  are  much  younger  than  your  daugh- 
ter, Madame  Dolly,'  said  an  old  admirer ;  and 
Lady  Dolly  rufided  those  pretty  curls  which 
had  cost  her  fifty  francs  a  lock. 

'  Ah !  Youth  is  a  thing  of  temperament 
more  than  of  years.  That  I  do  think.  My 
Vera  is  so  hard  to  please,  and  I — everything 
amuses  me,  and  everyone  to  me  seems  charming.' 

But  this  sunny,  smiling  little  visage  changed 


MOTHS.  267 


when,  every  evening  before  dinner,  she  came 
to  her  daughter's  room,  and  urged,  and  argued, 
and  abused,  and  railed,  and  entreated,  and 
sobbed,  and  said  her  sermon  again,  and  again, 
and  again  ;  all  in  vain. 

Vere  said  but  few  words,  but  they  were 
always  of  the  same  meaning. 

^I  will  not  marry  Prince  Zouroff,'  she  said 
always.  'It  is  of  no  use  to  ask  me.  I  will 
not.' 

And  the  little  frown  deepened  between  her 
eyes,  and  the  smile  that  Correze  had  seen  upon 
her  classic  mouth  now  never  came  there.  She 
grew  harassed  and  anxious. 

Since  her  letter  had  made  no  impression  on 
him  how  could  she  escape  this  weariness  ? 

One  evening  she  heard  some  people  in  the 
drawing-rooms  talking  of  Correze. 

They  said  that  he  had  been  singing  in  the 
*ridelio,'  and  surpassing  himself,  and  that  a 
young  and  beautiful  Grand  Duchess  had  made 
herself  conspicuous  by  her  idolatry  of  him ;  so 
conspicuous  that  he  had  been  requested  to 
leave  Germany,  and  had  refused,  placing  the 
VOL.   I.  s 


258  MOTHS. 


authorities  in  the  difficult  position  of  either 
receding  ridiculously  or  being  obliged  to  use 
illegal  force ;  there  would  be  terrible  scandal 
in  high  places,  but  Correze  was  always  acca- 
jpareur  des  femmes  1 

Vere  moved  away  with  a  beating  heart  and 
a  burning  cheek ;  through  the  murmur  of  the 
conversation  around  her  she  seemed  to  hear 
the  exquisite  notes  of  that  one  divine  voice 
which  had  dropped  and  deepened  to  so  simple 
and  tender  a  solemnity  as  it  had  bidden  her 
keep  herself  unspotted  from  the  world. 

'  What  would  he  say  if  he  knew  what  they 
want  me  to  do  ! '  she  thought.  '  If  he  knew 
that  my  mother  even — my  mother ! ' 

For,  not  even  though  her  mother  was 
Lady  Dolly,  could  Vere  quite  abandon  the 
fancy  that  motherhood  was  a  sweet  and  sacred 
altar  on  which  the  young  could  seek  shelter 
and  safety  from  all  evils  and  ills. 

The  week  at  Le  Caprice  came  to  an  end, 
and  the  four  days  at  Abbaye  aux  Bois  also, 
and,  in  the  last  hours  of  their  two  days  at 
the  Abbaye,  Lady  Dolly  said  to  her  daughter : 


MOTHS.  269 


'  To-morrow  is  the  Princes'  ball  at  Felicite, 
I  suppose  you  remember  ?  ' 

Vere  gave  a  sign  of  assent. 

'  That  is  the  loveliest  frock  La  Ferriere  has 
sent  you  for  it ;  if  you  had  any  heart  you  would 
kiss  me  for  such  a  gown,  but  you  have  none, 
you  never  will  have  any.' 

Vere  was  silent. 

'  I  must  speak  to  you  seriously  and  for  the 
last  time  here,'  said  her  mother.  'We  go  back 
to  Felicite,  and  Sergius  will  want  his  answer. 
I  can  put  him  off  no  longer.' 

'  He  has  had  it.' 

'  How  ?  '  said  Lady  Dolly,  forgetting  for  the 
moment  the  letter  she  had  burned.  '  Oh,  your 
letter  ?  Of  course  he  regarded  it  as  a  baby's 
houtade;  I  am  sure  it  was  badly  worded 
enough.' 

'  He  showed  it  you  then  ? ' 

'  Yes ;  he  showed  it  me.  It  hurt  him,  of 
course ;  but  it  did  not  change  him,'  said  her 
mother,  a  little  hurriedly.  'Men  of  his  age 
are  not  so  easily  changed.     I  tell  you  once  for 

S  2 


3G0  MOTHS. 


all,  Vere,  that  I  shall  come  to  you  to-night  for 
the  last  time  for  your  final  word,  and  I  tell  you 
that  you  must  be  seen  at  that  ball  to-morrow 
night  as  the  fiancee  of  Zouroff.  I  am  quite 
resolute,  and  I  will  have  no  more  shillyshallying 
or  hesitation.' 

Vere's  face  grew  warm,  and  she  threw  back 
her  head  with  an  eager  gesture. 

'  Hesitation  !  I  have  never  hesitated  for 
an  instant.  I  tell  you,  mother,  and  I  have 
told  you  a  hundred  times,  I  will  not  marry 
Prince  ZourofP.' 

'You  will  wear  the  new  gown  and  you 
shall  have  my  pearls,'  pursued  her  mother,  as 
though  she  had  not  heard ;  '  and  I  shall  take 
care  that  when  you  are  presented  to  his  Eoyal 
Highness  he  shall  know  that  you  are  already 
betrothed  to  Zouroff ;  it  will  be  the  best  way 
to  announce  it  nettement  to  the  world.  You 
will  not  wear  my  pearls  again,  for  Zouroff  has 
already  ordered  yours.' 

Vere  started  to  her  feet. 

'  And  I  will  stamp  them  to  pieces  if  he  give 
them  to  me;   and  if  you  tell  the   Prince  of 


MOTHS,  261 


Wales  such  a  thing  of  me  I  will  tell  him  the 
truth  and  ask  his  help  -,  he  is  always  kind  and 
good.' 

'  The  pearls  are  ordered/  said  her  mother 
unmoved ;  '  and  you  are  really  too  silly  for 
anything.  The  idea  of  making  the  poor  Prince 
a  scene  ! — you  have  such  a  passion  for  scenes, 
and  there  is  nothing  such  bad  form.  I  shall 
come  to  you  to-night  after  dinner,  and  let  me 
find  you  more  reasonable.' 

With  that  Lady  Dolly  went  out  of  the 
room,  and  out  of  the  house,  and  went  on  the 
sea  with  her  adorers,  laughing  lightly  and 
singing  naughty  little  chansons  not  ill.  But 
her  heart  was  not  as  light  as  her  laugh,  and, 
bold  little  woman  as  she  was  when  she  had 
nerved  herself  to  do  wrong,  her  nerves  troubled 
her  as  she  thought  that  the  morrow  was  the 
last,  the  very  last,  day  on  which  she  could  any 
longer  procrastinate  and  dally  with  Serge 
Zouroff. 

*  I  will  go  and  talk  to  her,'  said  Lady  Stoat, 
who  had  driven  over  from  Felicite,  when  she 
had  been  wearied  by  her  dear  Dolly's  lamenta- 


2C2  MOTHS. 


tions,  until  she  felt  that  even  her  friendship 
could  not  bear  them  much  longer. 

'  But  she  hates  him/  cried  Lady  Dolly,  for 
the  twentieth  time. 

^They  always  say  that,  dear,'  answered 
Lady  Stoat  tranquilly.  '  They  mean  it,  too, 
poor  little  things.  It  is  just  as  they  hated 
their  lessons,  yet  they  did  their  lessons,  dear, 
and  are  all  the  better  for  having  done  them. 
You  seem  to  me  to  attach  sadly  too  much 
importance  to  a  child's  houtades,' 

'  If  it  were  only  houtades !  But  you  do 
not  know  Yere.' 

'  1  cannot  think,  dear,  that  your  child  can 
be  so  very  extraordinarily  unlike  the  rest  of 
the  human  species,'  said  her  friend  with  her 
pleasant  smile.  '  Well,  I  will  go  and  see  this 
young  monster.  She  has  always  seemed  to 
me  a  little  Puritan,  nothing  worse,  and  that 
you  should  have  been  prepared  for,  leaving  her 
all  her  life  at  Buhner  Chase.' 

Lady  Stoat  then  went  upstairs  and  knocked 
at  the  door  of  Yere's  chamber,  and  entered 
with  the  soft,   silent  charm  of  movement  which 


MOTHS.  263 


was  one  of  the  especial  graces  of  that  grace- 
ful gentlewoman.  She  kissed  the  girl  ten- 
derly, regardless  that  Vere  drew  herself  away 
somewhat  rudely,  and  then  sank  down  in  a 
chair. 

'  My  child,  do  you  know  I  am  come  to  talk 
to  you  quite  frankly  and  affectionately,'  she 
said  in  her  gentle,  slow  voice.  '  You  know 
what  friendship  has  always  existed  between 
your  dear  mother  and  myself,  and  you  will 
believe  that  your  welfare  is  dear  to  me  for  her 
sake — very  dear.' 

Vere  looked  at  her,  but  did  not  speak. 

'An  uncomfortable  girl,'  thought  Lady 
Stoat,  a  little  discomfited,  but  she  resumed 
blandly,  *  Your  mamma  has  brought  me  some 
news  that  it  is  very  pleasant  to  hear,  and  gives 
me  sincere  happiness,  because,  by  it  your 
happiness,  and  through  yours  hers,  is  secured. 
My  own  dear  daughter  is  only  two  years  older 
than  you  are,  Vere,  and  she  is  married,  as  you 
know,  and  ah  !  so  happy ! ' 

'  Happy  with  the  Duke  of  Birkenhead  ?  ' 
said  Vere  abruptly. 


264  MOTHS. 


Lady  Stoat  was,  for  the  moment,  a  little 
staggered. 

'  What  a  very  unpleasant  child,'  she  thought ; 
*  and  who  would  think  she  knew  anything 
about  poor  Birk  !  ' 

*  Very  happy,'  she  continued  aloud,  '  and  I 
am  charmed  to  think,  my  dear,  that  you  have 
the  chance  of  being  equally  so.  Your  mamma 
tells  me,  love,  that  you  are  a  little — a  little— 
bewildered  at  so  brilliant  a  proposal  of  marriage 
as  Prince  Zouroff's.  That  is  a  very  natural 
feeling ;  of  course  you  had  never  thought 
about  any  such  thing.' 

'I  had  not  thought  about  it,'  said  Vere 
bluntly.  ' I  have  thought  now;  but  I  do  not 
understand  why  he  can  want  such  a  thing.  He 
knows  very  well  that  I  do  not  like  him.  If 
you  will  tell  him  for  me  that  I  do  not  I  shall 
be  glad ;  my  mother  will  never  tell  him  plainly 
enough.' 

'  My  sweet  Vere  ! '  said  Lady  Stoat  smiling- 
ly. '  Pray  do  not  give  me  the  mission  of 
breaking  my  host's  heart ;  I  would  as  soon 
break  his  china  !     Of  course  your  mamma  will 


MOTES.  266 


not  tell  him  anything  of  the  kind.  She  is 
charmed,  my  dear  girl,  charmed  !  What  better 
futm'e  could  she  hope  for,  for  you?  The 
Zouroffs  are  one  of  the  greatest  families  in 
Europe,  and  I  am  quite  sure  your  sentiments, 
your  jewels,  your  everything,  will  be  worthy  of 
the  exalted  place  you  will  fill.' 

Vere's  face  grew  very  cold. 

'  My  mother  has  sent  you  ?  '  she  said,  more 
rudely  than  her  companion  had  ever  been 
addressed  in  all  her  serene  existence.  '  Then 
will  you  kindly  go  back  to  her,  Lady  Stoat,  and 
tell  her  it  is  of  no  use  ;  I  will  not  marry  Prince 
ZourofP.' 

'  That  is  not  very  prettily  said,  my  dear. 
If  I  am  come  to  talk  to  you  it  is  certainly  in 
your  own  interests  only.  I  have  seen  young 
girls  like  you  throw  all  their  lives  away  for 
mere  want  of  a  little  reflection.' 

'  I  have  reflected.' 

*  Eeflected  as  much  as  sixteen  can ! — oh 
yes.  But  that  is  not  quite  what  I  mean.  I 
want  you  to  reflect,  looking  through  the 
glasses   of  my  experience    and   affection,  and 


MOTHS. 


your  mother's.  You  are  very  young, 
Vere.' 

'  Charlotte  Corday  was  almost  as  young  as 
I  am,  and  Jeanne  d'Arc/ 

Lady  Stoat  stared,  then  laughed. 

'  I  don't  know  where  they  come,  either  of 
them,  in  our  argument,  but  if  they  had  been 
married  at  sixteen  it  would  have  been  a  very 
good  thing  for  both  of  them  !  You  are  a  little 
girl  now,  my  child,  though  you  are  nearly  six 
feet  high !  You  are  a  demoiselle  a  marier. 
You  can  only  wear  pearls,  and  you  are  not 
even  presented.  You  are  no  one ;  nothing. 
Society  has  hundreds  like  you.  If  you  do  not 
marry,  people  will  fancy  you  are  old  whilst  you 
are  still  twenty ;  people  will  say  of  you  "  She 
is  getting  passee  ;  she  was  out  years  and  years 
ago."  Yes,  they  will  say  it  even  if  you  are 
handsomer  than  ever,  and,  what  will  be  worse, 
you  will  begin  to  feel  it .' 

Vere  was  silent,  and  Lady  Stoat  thought 
that  she  had  made  some  impression. 

'  You  will  begin  to  feel  it ;  then  you  will 
be  glad  to  marry  anybody,  and  there  is  nothing 


MOTHS.  267 


more   terrible   than   that.      You   will  take   a 
younger  son  of  a  baronet,  or  a  secretary  of 
legation  that  is  going  to  Hong  Kong  or  Chili 
— anything,  anybody,  to  get  out   of  yourself, 
and  not  to  see  your  own  face  in  the  ball-room 
mirrors.     Now,  if  you  marry  early,  and  marry 
brilliantly — and  this  marriage  is  most  brilliant 
— no   such  terrors   will  await  you ;    you   can 
wear  diamonds,  and,  oh  Vere  !  till  you  wear 
diamonds  you  do  not  know  what  life  is  ! — you 
can  go  where  you  like,  as  you  like,  your  own  mis- 
tress ;  you  are  i^osee ;  you  have  made  yourself  a 
power  while  your  contemporaries  are  still  debii- 
tantes  in   white   frocks ;   you  will    have   your 
children,  and  find  all  serious  interests  in  them, 
if  you  like  ;  you  will  have  all  that  is  best  in  life, 
in  fact,  and  have  it  before  you  are  twenty ;  you 
will    be   painted  by  Millais   and   clothed    by 
Worth ;  you  will  be  a  politician  if  you  like,  or 
a  fashionable  beauty  if  you  like,  or  only  a  great 
lady — ^perhaps  the  simplest  and  best  thing  of 
all;  and  you  will  be  this,  and  have  all  this, 
merely  because  you  married  early  and  married 
well.     My  dear,  such  a  marriage  is  to  a  girl 


966  MOTHS. 


like  being  sent  on  the  battle-field  to  a  boy  in 
the  army ;  it  is  the  baptism  of  fire  with  every 
decoration  as  its  rewards  ! ' 

'  The  Cross  too  ? '  said  Vere. 

Lady  Stoat,  who  had  spoken  eloquently,  and, 
in  her  own  light,  sincerely,  was  taken  aback  by 
the  irony  of  the  accent  and  the  enigma  of  the 
smile.  *  A  most  strange  child,'  she  thought ;  *  no 
wonder  she  worries  poor  flighty  little  pussie ! ' 

'The  Cross?  Oh,  yes,'  she  said.  *  What 
answers  to  the  boy's  Iron  Cross,  I  suppose,  is 
to  dance  in  the  Quadrille  d'Honneur  at  Court. 
Princesse  Zouroff  would  always  be  in  the 
Quadrille  d'Honneur.' 

'  Princesse  Zouroff  may  be  so.  I  shall  not. 
And  it  was  of  the  Cross  you  wear,  and  profess 
to  worship,  that  I  thought.' 

Lady  Stoat  felt  a  little  embarrassed.  She 
bowed  her  head,  and  touched  the  lona  cross  in 
jewels  that  hung  at  her  throat, 

*  Darling,  those  are  serious  and  solemn 
words,  A  great  marriage  may  be  made  sub- 
servient, like  any  other  action  of  our  lives,  to 
God's  service.' 


MOTHS. 


'  But  surely  one  ought  to  love  to  marry  ?  ' 

*  My  dear  child,  that  is  an  idea ;  love  is  an 
idea;  it  doesn't  last,  you  know;  it  is  fancy; 
what  is  needful  is  solid  esteem ' 

Lady  Stoat  paused;  even  to  her  it  was 
difficult  to  speak  of  solid  esteem  for  Sergius 
Zouroff.  She  took  up  another  and  safer  line 
of  argument. 

*  You  must  learn  to  understand,  my  sweet 
Vere,  that  life  is  prose,  not  poetry ;  Heaven 
forbid  that  I  should  be  one  to  urge  you  to  any 
sort  of  worldliness ;  but  still,  truth  is  every- 
thing ;  truth  compels  me  to  point  out  to  you 
that,  in  the  age  we  live  in,  a  great  position 
means  vast  power  and  ability  of  doing  good, 
and  that  is  not  a  thing  to  be  slighted  by  any 
wise  woman  who  would  make  her  life  beautiful 
and  useful.  Prince  Zouroff  adores  you;  he 
can  give  you  one  of  the  first  positions  in 
Europe ;  your  mother,  who  loves  you  tenderly, 
though  she  may  seem  negligent,  desires  such  a 
marriage  for  you  beyond  all  others.  Oppo- 
sition on  your  part  is  foolishness,  my  child, 
foolishness,  blindness,  and  rebellion.' 


270  MOTHS, 


The  face  of  Vere  as  she  listened  lost  its 
childish  softness,  and  grew  very  cold. 

'  I  understand ;  my  mother  does  not  want 
me,  Mr.  Vanderdecken  does  not  want  me ; 
this  Eussian  prince  is  the  first  who  asks  for 
me, — so  I  am  to  be  sold  because  he  is  rich.  I 
will  not  be  sold ! ' 

'  What  exaggerated  language,  my  love. 
Pray  do  not  exaggerate ;  no  one  uses  inflated 
language  now ;  even  on  the  stage  they  don't, 
it  has  gone  out.  Who  speaks  of  joMr  being 
sold,  as  if  you  were  a  slave  ?  Quelle  idee !  A 
brilliant,  a  magnificent,  alliance  is  open  to 
you,  that  is  all ;  every  unmarried  woman  in 
society  will  envy  you.  I  assure  you  if  Prince 
Zouroff  had  solicited  the  hand  of  my  own 
daughter,  I  would  have  given  it  to  him  with 
content  and  joy.' 

'  1  have  no  doubt  you  would,'  said  the  girl 
curtly. 

Lady  Stoat's  sweet  temper  rose  a  little 
under  the  words. 

*  You  are  very  beautiful,  my  dear,  but  your 
manners  leave  very  much  to  be  desired,'  sh& 


MOTHS.  271 


said  almost  sharply.  'If  you  were  not  poor 
little  Dolly's  child  I  should  not  trouble  myself 
to  reason  with  you,  but  let  you  destroy  yourself 
like  an  obstinate  baby  as  you  are.  What  can 
be  your  objection  to  Prince  Sergius?  Now 
be  reasonable  for  once ;  tell  me. 

'  I  am  sure  he  is  a  bad  man.' 

'  My  love  !  What  should  you  know  about 
bad  men,  or  good  ones  either  ?  ' 

'  I  am  sure  he  is  bad — and  cruel.' 

'  What  nonsense  !  I  am  sure  he  has  been 
charming  to  you,  and  you  are  very  ungrateful. 
What  can  have  given  you  such  an  impression 
of  your  devoted  adorer  ?  ' 

Vere  shuddered  a  little  with  disgust. 

'  I  hate  Mm  I '  she  said  under  her  breath. 

Lady  Stoat  for  a  moment  was  startled. 

'Where  could  she  get  her  melodrama 
from  ?  '  she  wondered.  '  Dolly  was  never  melo- 
dramatic ;  nor  any  of  the  Herbert  people ;  it 
really  makes  one  fancy  poor  pussy  must  have 
had  a  'petite  faute  with  a  tragic  actor  ! ' 

Aloud  she  answered  gently  : 

'  You  have  a  sad  habit,  my  Vere,  of  using 


272  MOfHS. 


very  strong  words ;  it  is  not  nice  ;  and  you  do 
not  mean  one-tenth  that  you  say  in  your  haste. 
No  Christian  ever  hates,  and  in  a  girl  such  a 
feeling  would  be  horrible — if  you  meant  it — 
but  you  do  not  mean  it.' 

Vere  shut  her  proud  lips  closer,  but  there 
was  a  meaning  upon  them  that  made  her 
companion  hesitate,  and  feel  uncomfortable, 
and  at  a  loss  for  words. 

'How  wonderful  that  pussy  should  ever 
have  had  a  daughter  like  this  ! '  she  thought, 
and  then  smiled  in  a  sweet,  mild  way. 

'  Poor  Serge !  That  he  should  have  been  the 
desired  of  all  Europe,  only  to  be  rejected  by  a 
child  of  sixteen !  Eeally  it  is  like — who  was 
it  ? — winning  a  hundred  battles  and  then  dying 
of  a  cherry-stone !  There  is  nothing  he  couldn't 
give  you,  nothing  he  wouldn't  give  you,  you 
thankless  little  creature  ! ' 

Vere,  standing  very  slender  and  tall,  with 

her  face  averted  and  her  fair  head  in  the  glow 

of  the  sunset  light,  made  no  reply ;  but  her 

attitude  and  her  silence  were  all  eloquent. 

Lady  Stoat  thought  to  herself,  'Dear,  dear! 


MOTHS.  273 


what  a  charming  Iphigenia  she  would  look  in  a 
theatre  ;  but  there  is  no  use  for  all  that  in  real 
Jife.     How  to  convince  her  ?  ' 

Even  Lady  Stoat  was  perplexed. 

She  began  to  talk  vaguely  and  gorgeously 
of  the  great  place  of  the  ZourofP  family  in  the 
world ;  of  their  enormous  estates,  of  their 
Uraline  mines,  of  their  Imperial  favour,  of  their 
right  to  sit  covered  at  certain  courts,  of  their 
magnificence  in  Paris,  their  munificence  in 
Petersburg,  their  power,  their  fashion,  and 
their  pomp. 

Vere  waited,  till  the  long  discursive  de- 
scriptions ended  of  themselves,  exhausted  by 
their  own  oratory.  Then  she  said  very  sim  ply 
and  very  coldly  : 

'  Do  you  believe  in  God,  Lady  Stoat  ? ' 

'  In  God  ?  '  echoed  Lady  Stoat,  shocked  and 
amazed. 

'  Do  you  or  not  ?  ' 

'  My  dear !  Goodness  !  Pray  do  not  say  such 
things  to  me.     As  if  I  were  an  infidel ! — I! ' 

/  Then  how  can  you  bid  me  take  His  name 
in  vain,  and  marry  Prince  Zouroff  P  ' 

VOL.    I.  T 


274  MOTHS. 


'  I  do  not  see  the  connection,'  began  Lady 
Stoat  vaguely,  and  very  wearily. 

'I  have   read  the   marriage   service/  said^ 
Vere,  with  a  passing  heat  upon  her  pale  cheeks 
for  a  moment. 

Lady  Stoat  for  once  was  silent. 

She  was  very  nearly  going  to  reply  that  the 
marriage  service  was  of  old  date  and  of  an  ex- 
aggerated style  ;  that  it  was  not  in  good  taste, 
and  in  no  degree  to  be  interpreted  literally ; 
but  such  an  avowal  was  impossible  to  a  woman 
who  revered  the  ritual  of  her  Church,  and  was 
bound  to  accept  it  unquestioned.  So  she  was 
silent  and  vanquished — so  far. 

'  May  I  go  now  ? '  said  Vere. 

'  Certainly,  love,  if  you  wish,  but  you  must 
let  me  talk  to  you  again.  I  am  sure  you  will 
change  and  please  your  mother — your  lovely 
little  mother! — whom  you  ought  to  live  for, you 
naughty  child,  so  sweet  and  so  dear  as  she  is.' 

'  She  has  never  lived  for  me,'  thought  Vere, 
but  she  did  not  say  so ;  she  merely  made  the 
deep  curtsey  she  had  learned  at  Bulmer  Chase, 
which  had  the  serene  and  stately  grace  in  it  of 


MOTHS.  275 


another  century  than  her  own,  and,  without 
another  word,  passed  out  of  the  room. 

'  Quel  enfamt  terrible  I  '  murmured  Lady 
Stoat,  with  a  shiver  and  a  sigh. 

Lady  Stoat  was  quite  in  earnest,  and  meant 
well.  She  knew  perfectly  that  Sergius  Zouroff 
was  a  man  whose  vices  were  such  as  the  world 
does  not  care  even  to  name,  and  that  his  temper 
was  that  of  a  savage  bull-dog  allied  to  the 
petulant  exactions  of  a  spoilt  child.  She  knew 
that  perfectly,  but  she  had  known  as  bad  things 
of  her  own  son-in-law,  and  had  not  stayed  her 
own  daughter's  marriage  on  that  account. 

Position  was  everything,  Lady  Stoat  thought, 
the  man  himself  nothing.  Men  were  all  sadly 
much  alike,  she  believed.  Being  a  woman  of 
refined  taste  and  pure  life,  she  did  not  even 
think  about  such  ugly  things  as  male  vices. 

Lady  Stoat  was  one  of  those  happy  people 
who  only  see  just  so  much  as  they  wish  to  see. 
It  is  the  most  comfortable  of  all  myopisms. 
She  had  had,  herself,  a  husband  far  from 
virtuous,  but  she  had  always  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  all  who  would  have  told  her  of  his  failings. 
t2 


276  MOTHS. 


'  I  do  my  own  duty ;  that  is  enough  for  me/ 
she  would  answer  sweetly ;  and,  naturally,  she 
wondered  why  other  women  could  not  be  simi- 
larly content  with  doing  theirs — when  they  had 
a  Position.  Without  a  position  she  could  ima- 
gine, good  woman  though  she  was,  that  things 
were  very  trying;  and  that  people  worried 
more.  As  for  herself,  she  had  never  worried, 
and  she  had  no  sympathy  with  worry  in  any 
shape.  So  that  when  Lady  Dolly  came  to  her 
weeping,  excited,  furious,  hopeless,  over  her 
daughter's  wicked  obstinacy.  Lady  Stoat  only 
laughed  at  her  in  a  gentle  rallying  way. 

'You  little  goose!  As  if  girls  were  not 
always  like  that !  She  has  got  Correze  in  her 
head  still,  and  she  is  a  difficult  sort  of  nature, 
I  grant.  What  does  it  matter  after  all  ?  You 
have  only  to  be  firm.    She  will  come  to  reason.' 

'  But  I  never,  never  could  be  firm,'  sobbed 
Lady  Dolly.  'The  Herberts  are,  I  am  not. 
And  Vere  is  just  like  her  father;  when  I  asked 
him  to  have  a  stole  and  a  rochet  and  look 
nice,  nothing  would  induce  him,  because  he 
s^id  something  about  his  bishop ' 


MOTHS,  277 


Lady  Stoat,  in  her  superior  wisdom,  smiled 
once  more. 

'  Was  poor  Yere  so  very  low  in  the  matter 
of  vestments  ?  How  curious ;  the  Herberts 
were  Catholic  until  James  the  First's  time. 
But  why  do  you  fret  so?  The  child  is  a  beauty, 
really  a  beauty.  Even  if  she  persist  in  her 
hatred  of  Zouroff  she  will  marry  well,  I  am 
sure;  and  she  must  not  persis:  in  it.  You  must 
have  common  sense.' 

'  But  what  can  one  do  ? '  said  Lady  Dolly  in 
desperation.  '  It  is  all  very  easy  to  talk,  but  it 
is  not  such  a  little  thing  to  force  a  girl's  will  in 
these  days;  she  can  make  a  fuss,  and  then 
society  abuses  you,  and  I  think  the  police  even 
can  interfere,  and  the  Lord  Chancellor  if  she 
have  no  father.' 

And  Lady  Dolly  sobbed  afresh. 

'  Dear  little  goose  ! '  said  Lady  Stoat  con- 
solingly, but  rather  wearied.  '  Of  course  no- 
body uses  force ;  there  are  a  thousand  pleasant 
ways — children  never  know  what  is  best  for 
them.  We,  who  are  their  nearest  and  dearest, 
must  take  care  of  their  tender,  foolish,  is^norant, 


278  MOTHS. 


young  lives,  committed  to  us  for  guidance. 
Gwendolen  even  was  reluctant — but  now  in' 
every  letter  she  sends  me  she  says,  "Oh, 
mamma,  how  right  you  were  !  "  That  is  what 
your  Vera  will  say  to  you,  darling,  a  year 
hence,  when  she  will  have  been  Princess 
Zouroff  long  enough  to  have  got  used  to  him.' 

Lady  Dolly  shivered  a  little  at  all  that  the 
words  implied. 

Tier  friend  glanced  at  her. 

^  If  Zouroff  cause  you  apprehension  for  any 
reason  I  am  unaware  of,'  she  said  softly  ;  '  there 
are  others ;  though,  to  be  sure,  as  your  pretty 
child  is  portionless,  it  may  be  difficult ' 

*  No,  it  must  be  Zouroff,'  said  Lady  Dolly, 
nervously  and  quickly.  '  She  has  no  money,  as 
you  say ;  and  everyone  wants  money  nowadays.' 

'  Except  a  Eussian,'  said  Lady  Stoat,  with 
a  smile.  *  Then,  since  you  wish  for  him,  take 
him  now  he  is  to  be  bad.  But  I  would  advise 
you  not  to  dawdle,  love.  Men  like  him,  if  they 
are  denied  one  fancy  soon  change  to  another ; 
and  he  has  all  the  world  to  console  him  for 
Vere's  loss.' 


MOTHS.  279 


*  I  have  told  him  he  should  have  her  answer 
in  a  day  or  two.  I  said  she  was  shy,  timid, 
too  surprised ;  he  seems  to  like  that.' 

'  Of  course  he  likes  it.  Men  always  like  it 
in  women  they  mean  to  make  their  wives. 
Then,  in  a  day  or  two,  you  must  convince  her ; 
that  is  all.  I  do  not  say  it  will  be  easy  with 
her  very  obstinate  and  peculiar  temperament. 
But  it  will  be  possible.' 

Lady  Dolly  was  mute. 

She  envied  her  dear  Adine  that  hand  of 
steel  under  the  glove  of  velvet.  She  herself 
had  it  not.  Lady  Dolly  was  of  that  pliant 
temper,  which,  according  to  the  temperature  it 
dwells  in,  becomes  either  harmless  or  worth- 
less. She  had  nothing  of  the  mattresse  femme 
about  her.  She  was  always  doing  things  that 
she  wished  were  undone,  and  knottino-  en- 
tanglements  that  she  could  not  unravel.  She 
was  no  ruler  of  others,  except  in  a  coquettish, 
petulant  fashion,  of  '  Jack — and  the  rest.' 

And  she  had  that  terrible  drawback  to 
comfort  and  impediment  to  success — a  con- 
science, that  was  sluggish  and  fitful,  and  sleepy 


280  MOTHS, 


and  feeble,  but  not  wholly  dead.  Only  this 
conscience,  unhappily,  was  like  a  very  tiny, 
weak,  swimmer  stemming  a  very  strong  op- 
posing tide. 

Tn  a  moment  or  two  the  swimmer  gave 
over,  and  the  opposing  tide  had  all  its  own  way. 

After  dinner  that  evening,  whilst  the  rest 
were  dancing,  Vere  slipped  away  unnoticed  to 
her  own  room,  a  little  tiny  turret-room,  of  which 
the  window  almost  overhung  the  sea.  She 
opened  the  lattice,  and  leaned  out  into  the  cool 
fragrant  night.  The  sky  was  cloudless,  the  sea 
silvery  in  the  moonlight;  from  the  gardens 
below  there  arose  the  scent  of  datnra  and  tube- 
rose. It  was  all  so  peaceful  and  so  sweet,  the 
girl  could  not  understand  why,  amidst  it  all, 
she  must  be  so  unhappy. 

Since  Zouroff  had  had  her  letter  there  was 
no  longer  any  hope  of  changing  his  resolve  by 
telling  him  the  truth,  and  a  sombre  hatred 
began  to  grow  up  in  her  against  this  man,  who 
seemed  to  her  her  tormentor  and  her  tyrant. 

What  hurt  her  most  was  that  her  own 
mother  should  urge  this  horror  upon  her. 


MOTHS.  281 


She  could  see  no  key  to  the  mystery  of  such 
a  wish  except  in  the  fact  that  her  mother 
cruelly  desired  to  be  rid  of  her  at  all  cost ;  and 
she  had  written  a  letter  to  her  grandmother  at 
Bulmer  Chase — a  letter  that  lay  by  her  on  the 
table  ready  to  go  down  to  the  post-bag  in  the 
morning. 

'  Grandmama  loves  me  in  her  own  harsh 
way,'  the  child  thought.  '  She  will  take  me 
back  for  a  little  time  at  least,  and  then,  if  she 
do  not  like  to  keep  me,  perhaps  I  could  keep 
myself  in  some  way ;  I  think  I  could  if  they 
would  let  me.  I  might  go  to  the  Fraulein  in 
her  own  country  and  study  music  at  Baireutli, 
and  make  a  career  of  it.  There  would  be  no 
shame  iu  that.' 

And  the  thought  of  Correze  came  softly  over 
her  as  the  memory  of  fair  music  will  come  in  a 
day-dream. 

Not  as  any  thought  of  love.  She  had  read 
no  romances  save  dear  Sir  Walter's,  which 
alone,  of  all  the  erring  tribe  of  fiction,  held  a 
place  on  the  dark  oak-shelves  of  the  library  at 
Bulmer. 


282  MOTHS. 


Correze  was  to  her  like  a  beautiful  fancy 
rather  than  a  living  being, — a  star  that  shot 
across  a  summer  sky  and  passed  unseen  to 
brighter  worlds  than  ours. 

He  was  a  saint  to  the  child — he  who  to 
himself  was  a  sad  sinner — and  his  words  dwelt 
in  her  heart  like  a  talisman  against  all  evil. 

She  sat  all  alone,  and  dreamt  innocently 
of  going  into  the  mystic  German  land  and 
learning  music  in  all  its  heights  and  depths, 
and  living  nobly,  and  being  never  wedded  (^Oh, 
never,  never ! '  she  said  to  herself  with  a 
burning  face  and  a  shrinking  heart) ;  and  some 
day  meeting  Correze,  the  wonder  of  the  world, 
and  looking  at  him  without  shame  and  saying, 
'  I  have  done  as  you  told  me ;  I  have  never  been 
burnt  in  the  flame  as  you  feared.  Are  you 
glad?' 

It  did  not,  as  yet,  seem  hard  to  her  to  do  so. 
The  world  was  to  her  personified  in  the  great 
vague  horror  of  Serge  Zouroff's  name,  and  it 
cost  her  no  more  to  repulse  it  than  it  costs  a 
child  to  flee  from  some  painted  monster  that 
gapes  at  it  from  a  wall. 


MOTHS.  283 


This  niglit,  after  Lady  Stoat's  ineffectual 
efforts  at  conversion,  Lady  Dolly  herself  once 
more  sought  her  daughter,  and  renewed  the 
argument  with  more  asperity  and  more  callous- 
ness than  she  had  previously  shown. 

Vere  was  still  sitting  in  her  own  chamber, 
trying  to  read,  but,  in  truth,  always  thinking 
of  the  bidding  of  Correze,  '  Keep  j^ourself 
unspotted  from  the  world.' 

Dreaming  so,  with  her  hands  buried  in  the 
golden  clustering  hair,  and  her  lids  drooped 
over  her  eyes,  she  started  at  the  voice  of  her 
mother;  and,  with  pain  and  impatience,  listened 
with  unwilling  ear  to  the  string  of  reproaches, 
entreaties,  and  censure  that  had  lately  become 
as  much  the  burden  of  her  day  as  the  morning- 
prayer  at  Buhner  had  been,  droned  by  the 
duchess's  dull  voice  to  the  sleepy  household. 

Yere  raised  herself  and  listened,  with  that 
dutifulness  of  the  old  fashion  which  contrasted 
so  strangely  in  her,  her  mother  thought,  with 
her  rebellion  and  self-willed  character.  But  she 
grew  very  weary. 

Lady  Dolly,  less  delicate  in  her  diplomacy 


284  MOTHS. 


than  her  friend  had  been,  did  not  use  euphuisms 
at  all,  nor  attempt  to  take  any  high  moral  point. 
Broadly  and  unhesitatingly  she  painted  all  that 
Sergias  Zouroff  had  it  in  his  power  to  bestow, 
and  the  text  of  her  endless  sermon  was,  that  to 
reject  such  gifts  was  wickedness. 

At  the  close  she  grew  passionate. 

'  You  think  of  love,'  she  said.  '  Oh,  it  is  of 
no  use  your  saying  you  don't;  you  do.  All 
girls  do.  I  did.  I  married  your  father.  We 
were  as  much  in  love  as  any  creatures  in  a  poem. 
When  I  had  lived  a  month  in  that  wretched 
parsonage  by  the  sea,  I  knew  what  a  little  fool 
I  had  been.  I  had  had  such  wedding  presents ! 
— such  presents !  The  queen  had  sent  me  a 
cachemire  for  poor  papa's  sake ;  yet,  down  in 
that  horrid  place,  we  had  to  eat  pork,  and  there 
was  only  a  metal  teapot !  Oh,  you  smile  !  it  is 
nothing  to  smile  at.  Yere  used  to  smile  just  as 
you  do.  He  would  have  taken  the  cachemire 
to  wrap  an  old  woman  up  in,  very  probably ; 
and  he  wouldn't  have  known  whether  he  ate  a 
peach  or  a  pig.  I  knew ;  and  whenever  they 
put  that  tea  in  the  metal  teapot,  I  knew  the 


MOTHS.  285 


cost  of  young  love.  Eespect  your  father's 
memory  ?  Stujff !  I  am  not  saying  anything 
against  him,  poor  dear  fellow;  he  was  very 
good — in  his  way,  excellent ;  but  he  had  made 
a  mistake,  and  I  too.  I  told  him  so  twenty 
times  a  day,  and  he  only  sighed  and  went  out 
to  his  old  women.  I  tell  you  this  only  to  show 
you  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  Love 
and  marriage  are  two  totally  different  things ; 
they  ought  never  to  be  named  together ;  they 
are  cat  and  dog  ;  one  kills  the  other.  Pray  do 
not  stare  so ;  you  make  me  nervous.' 

'It  is  not  wicked  to  love?'  said  Vere  slowly. 

'  Wicked  ?  no ;  what  nonsense  !  It  amuses 
one  ;  it  doesn't  last.' 

'  A  great  love  must  last,  till  death,  and  after 
it,'  said  the  child,  with  solemn  eyes. 

'  After  it  9  '  echoed  Lady  Dolly  with  a  little 
laugh.  '  I'm  afraid  that  would  make  a  very 
naughty  sort  of  place  of  Heaven.  Don't  look 
so  shocked,  child.  You  know  nothing  about  it. 
Believe  me,  dear,  where  two  lovers  go  on  year 
after  year,  it  is  only  for  Pont  de  Veyle's  reason 
to    Madame   de   Deffand :    '  Nous   sommes   si 


MOTHS. 


mortellemeiit  ennuyes  Tun  de  Tautre  que  nous 
lie  pouvons  plus  nous  quitter  !  ' 

Vere  was  silent.  Her  world  of  dreams  was 
turned  upside  down,  and  shaken  rudely. 

'You  have  no  heart,  Vere;  positivel}'  none,' 
said  her  mother  bitterly,  resuming  all  the  old 
argument.  '  I  can  scarcely  think  you  are  my 
child.  You  see  me  wearing  myself  to  a  shadow 
for  your  sake,  and  yet  you  have  no  pity.  What 
in  heaven's  name  can  you  want?  You  are  only 
sixteen,  and  one  of  the  first  marriages  in  Europe 
opens  to  you.  You  ought  to  go  on  your  knees 
in  thankfulness,  and  yet  you  hesitate  ?  ' 

'  I  do  not  hesitate  at  all,'  said  Vere  quickly. 
*  I  refuse  ! ' 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  looked  older  by 
ten  years.  There  was  a  haughty  resolve  in  her 
attitude  that  cowed  her  mother  for  an  instant. 

'  I  refuse,'  she  said  again.  ''  And,  if  you 
will  not  tell  Monsieur  ZourofP  so  yourself,  I 
will  tell  him  to-morrow.  Listen,  mother,  I 
have  written  to  Bulmer,  and  I  will  go  back 
there.  Grandmama  will  not  refuse  to  take  me 
in,     I  shall  be  a  trouble  and  care  to  you  no 


MOTHS.  287 


longer.  I  am  not  made  for  your  world  nor  it 
for  me.  I  will  go.  I  have  some  talent,  they 
have  always  said,  and  at  least  I  have  persever- 
ance. I  will  find  some  way  of  maintaining 
myself.  I  want  so  little,  and  I  know  enough 
of  music  to  teach  it ;  and  so  at  least  I  shall  be 
free  and  no  burden  upon  anyone.' 

She  paused,  startled  by  her  mother's 
laughter ;  such  laughter  as  she,  in  a  later  day, 
heard  from  Croizette  when  Croizette  was  acting 
her  own  deathbed  on  the  stage  of  the  Fran9ais. 

Lady  Dolly's  shrill,  unnatural,  ghastly 
laughter  echoed  through  the  room. 

'Is  that  your  scheme?  To  teach  music? 
And  Correze  to  teach  you,  I  suppose?  0  la  belle 
idee !  You  little  fool !  you  little  idiot !  how 
dare  you?  Because  you  are  mad,  do  you  think 
we  are  mad  too?  Go  to  Bulmer  now  1  Never  ! 
I  am  your  mother,  and  you  shall  do  what  I 
choose.  What  I  choose  is  that  you  shall  marry 
Zouroff.' 

« I  will  not.' 

'  Will  not  ?  will  not  ?     I  say  you  shall ! ' 

*  And  I  say  that  I  will  not.' 


MOTHS. 


They  confronted  one  another;  the  girl's  face 
pale,  clear  and  cold  in  its  fresh  and  perfect 
beauty,  the  woman's  grown  haggard,  fevered, 
and  fierce  in  its  artificial  prettiness. 

'  I  will  not,'  repeated  Vere  with  her  teeth 
closed.  '  And  my  dead  father  wonld  say  I  was 
right ;  and  I  will  tell  this  man  to-morrow  that 
I  loathe  him;  and,  since  surely  he  mustJbave 
some  pride  to  be  stung,  he  will  ask  for  me  no 
more  then.' 

'Vere !  you  kill  me ! '  screamed  her  mother ; 
and,  in  truth,  she  fainted,  her  pretty  curly 
perruque  twisting  off  her  head,  her  face  deathly 
pallid  save  for  the  unchanging  bloom  of  cheek 
and  mouth. 

It  was  but  a  passing  swoon,  and  her  maid 
soon  restored  her  to  semi-consciousness  and 
then  bore  her  to  her  room. 

'  What  a  cold  creature  is  that  child,'  thought 
Adrienne,  of  Vere.  '  She  sees  miladi  insensible, 
and  stands  there  with  never  a  tear,  or  a  kiss,  or 
a  cry.  What  it  is  to  have  been  brought  up  in 
England ! ' 

Vere  left  alone,  sat  awhile  lost  in  thought. 


MOTHS.  289 


leaning  her  head  on  her  hands.  Then  she  rang 
and  bade  them  post  the  letter  to  Bulmer  ;  the 
dark  and  drearsome,  but  safe  and  familiar 
home  of  her  lost  childhood. 

The  letter  gone,  she  undressed  and  went  to 
bed.     It  was  midnight.     She  soon  was  asleej). 

Innocent  unhappiness  soon  finds  this  rest ; 
it  is  the  sinful  sorrow  of  later  years  that  stares, 
with  eyes  that  will  not  close,  into  the  hateful 
emptiness  of  night. 

She  slept  deeply  and  dreamlessly,  the  moon- 
beams through  the  high  window  finding  her 
out  where  she  lay,  her  slender  limbs,  supple 
as  willow  wands,  in  calm  repose,  and  her  long 
lashes  lying  on  her  cheeks. 

Suddenly  she  woke,  startled  and  alarmed. 
A  light  fell  on  her  eyes ;  a  hand  touched  her ; 
she  was  no  longer  alone. 

She  raised  herself  in  her  bed,  and  gazed 
with  a  dazzled  sight  and  vague  terror  into  the 
yellow  rays  of  the  lamp. 

'  Vere  !  It  is  I  !  it  is  I ! '  cried  her  mother 
with  a  sob  in  her  voice.  And  Lady  Dolly 
dropped  on  her  knees  beside  the  bed ;  her  real 
VOL.  I.  u 


290  MOTHS. 


liair  dishevelled  on  her  shoulders,  her  face 
without  false  bloom  and  haggard  as  the  face  of 
a  woman  of  twice  her  own  years. 

'  Yere,  Vere !  you  can  save  me/  she  mut- 
tered, with  her  hands  clasped  tight  on  the 
girl's.  '  Oh,  my  dear,  I  never  thought  to  tell 
you ;  but,  since  you  will  hear  no  reason,  what 
can  I  do?  Vere,  wake  up — listen.  I  am  a 
guilty,  silly  woman ;  guiltier,  sillier,  than  you 
can  dream.  You  are  my  child  after  all,  and 
owe  me  some  obedience;  and  you  can  save 
me.  Yere,  Yere !  do  not  be  cruel ;  do  not 
misjudge  me,  but  listen.  You  must  marry 
Sergius  Zouroff.' 

It  was  dawn  when  Lady  Dolly  crept  away 
from  her  daughter's  chamber;  shivering, 
ashamed,  contrite,  in  so  far  as  humiliation  and 
regret  make  up  contrition ;  hiding  her  blanched 
face  with  the  hood  of  her  wrapper  as  though 
the  faint,  white  rays  of  daybreak  were  spec- 
tators and  witnesses  against  her. 

Yere  lay  quite  still,  as  she  had  fallen,  upon 
her  bed,  her  face  upturned,  her  hands  clenched, 
her  shut  lips  blue  as  with  great  cold.  She  had 
promised  what  her  mother  had  asked. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


On  the  morrow  it  was  known  to  all  the  guests 
of  the  house  at  which  they  were  staying  that 
the  head  of  the  Princes  Zonroff  was  to  marry 
the  daughter  of  the  Lady  Dorothy  Vander- 
decken. 

On  the  morrow  Lady  Dolly  drove  back  to 
Felicite,  with  her  daughter  beside  her. 

She  was  victorious. 

The  sun  was  strong,  and  the  east  wind 
cold;  she  was  glad  that  they  were  so.  The 
eyes  of  her  daughter  were  heavy  with  dark 
circles  beneath  them,  and  her  face  was  blanched 
to  a  deadly  pallor,  which  changed  to  a  cruel 
crimson  flush  as  the  turrets  and  belfries  of  the 
u2 


292  MOTHS. 


chateau  of  the  Zouroffs  came  in  sight  above 
the  woods  of  its  park. 

They  had  driven  the  eight  miles  from  Le 
Caprice  in  unbroken  silence. 

*  If  she  would  only  speak  ! '  thought  Lady 
Dolly ;  and  yet  she  felt  that  she  could  not  have 
borne  it  if  her  companion  had  spoken. 

They  drove  round  to  a  ]petit  entre  at  the 
back  of  the  house,  and  were  met  by  no  one  but 
some  bowing  servants.  She  had  begged  in  a 
little  note  that  it  might  be  so,  making  some 
pretty  plea  for  Yere  of  maiden  shyness.  They 
were  shown  straight  to  their  rooms.  It  was 
early ;  noonday.  The  chateau  was  quite  still. 
At  night  the  great  ball  was  to  be  given  to  the 
English  princes,  but  the  household  was  too 
well  trained  to  make  any  disturbance  with 
their  preparations.  Down  the  steps  of  the 
great  terrace  there  was  stretched  scarlet  cloth, 
and  all  the  face  of  the  building  was  hung  with 
globes  and  cressets  of  oil,  to  be  lit  at  dark. 
These  were  the  only  outward  signs  that  any- 
thing more  brilliant  than  usual  was  about  to 
take  place. 


MOTHS.  293 


'  You  will  come  to  breakfasfc  ? '  said  Ladj 
Dolly,  pausing  at  the  threshold  of  her  room. 

It  was  the  first  word  she  had  said  to  Yere 
since  the  dawn,  when  they  had  parted,  and  her 
own  voice  sounded  strange  to  her. 

Yere  shuddered  as  with  cold. 

*  I  cannot.     Make  some  excuse.' 

'What  is  the  use  of  putting  off? '  said  her 
mother  fretfully.  '  You  will  be  ill ;  you  are  ill. 
If  you  should  be  ill  to-night,  what  will  every- 
one say?  what  will  he  think?  what  shall  I 
do?' 

Yere  went  into  her  chamber  and  locked  her 
door.  She  locked  out  even  her  maid;  flung 
her  hat  aside,  and  threw  herself  forward  on  the 
bed,  face  downward,  and  there  lay. 

Lady  Dolly  went  into  her  chamber,  and 
glanced  at  her  own  face  with  horror.  Though 
made  up,  as  well  as  usual  for  the  day,  she 
looked  yellow,  worn,  old. 

'  I  must  go  down  !  '  she  thought — how 
selfish  youth  was,  and  how  hard  a  thing  was 
motherhood  !  She  had  herself  dressed  beauti- 
fully and  took  some  ether. 


294  MOTHS. 


She  had  sunk  her  drowned  conscience 
fathoms  deep,  and  begun  once  more  to  pity 
herself  for  the  obstinacy  and  oddness  of  the 
child  to  whom  she  had  given  birth.  Why 
could  not  the  girl  be  like  any  others  ? 

The  ether  began  to  move  in  her  veins  and 
swim  in  her  head ;  her  eyes  grew  brighter. 
She  went  out  of  her  room  and  along  the 
corridor  to  the  staircase,  fastening  an  autumn 
rose  or  two  in  her  breast,  taken  from  the 
bouqueb  of  her  dressing-table.  As  she  glanced 
down  the  staircase  into  the  hall  where  the 
servants  in  the  canary-coloured  liveries  of  the 
house  were  going  to  and  fro,  she  thought  of 
all  the  rank  and  riches  of  which  Felicite  was 
only  one  trifling  portion  and  symbol,  and 
thought  to  herself  that — after  all — any  mother 
would  have  done  as  she  had  done;  and  no 
maiden  surely  could  need  a  higher  reward  for 
the  gift  of  her  innocence  to  the  minotaur  of  a 
loveless  marriage. 

'  If  I  had  been  married  like  that ! '  she 
thought ;  and  felt  that  she  had  been  cruelly 
wronged  by  destiny  ;  if  she  had  been  married 


MOTHS.  295 


like  that,  how  easy  it  would  have  been  to  have 
become  a  good  woman  !  What  could  Yere 
complain  of? — the  marriage  was  perfect  in  a 
worldly  sense,  and  in  any  other  sense — did  it 
matter  what  it  was  ? 

So  the  ether  whispered  to  her. 

She  began  to  taste  the  sweets  of  her  victory 
and  to  forget  the  bitter,  as  the  ether  brought 
its  consoling  haze  over  all  painful  memories, 
and  lent  its  stimulating  brightness  to  all 
personal  vanities. 

After  all  it  was  very  delightful  to  go  down 
those  stairs,  knowing  that  when  she  met  all 
those  dear  female  friends  whom  she  detested, 
and  who  detested  her,  no  one  could  pity  her 
and  everyone  must  envy  her.  She  had  be- 
trothed her  daughter  to  one  of  the  richest  and 
best  born  men  in  all  Europe.  "Was  it  not  the 
crown  of  maternity,  as  maternity  is  understood 
in  society  ? 

So  down  she  went,  and  crossed  the  great 
vestibule,  looking  young,  fair,  and  bewitching 
with  the  roses  in  her  bosom,  and  an  admirably 
chosen  expression  on  her  face,  half  glad  and 


296  MOTHS. 


half  plaintive,  and  with  a  flusli  under  lier 
paint  tliat  made  her  look  prettier  than  ever; 
her  eyes  sparkled,  her  smile  vs^as  all  sun- 
shine and  sweetness,  she  pressed  the  hands  of 
her  most  intimate  friends  with  an  eloquent 
tenderness,  she  was  exquisitely  arrayed  with 
cascades  of  old  Mechlin  falling  from  her  throat 
to  her  feet. 

'  A  mother  only  lives  to  be  young  again  in 
her  child ! '  she  said  softly — and  knew  that  she 
looked  herself  no  more  than  twenty  years  old 
as  she  said  it. 

Sergius  Zouroff,  profuse  in  delicate  com- 
pliment to  her  aloud,  said  to  himself: 

*  Brava,  naughty  Dolly  !  Bis-his !  Will  she 
ever  be  like  you,  I  wonder?  Perhaps.  The 
world  makes  you  all  alike  after  a  little  while.' 

He  was  ready  to  pay  a  high  price  for 
innocence,  because  it  was  a  new  toy  that  pleased 
him.  But  he  never  thought  that  it  would  last, 
any  more  than  the  bloom  lasts  on  the  peach. 
He  had  no  illusions.  Since  it  would  be  agree- 
able to  brush  it  off  himself,  he  was  ready  to 
purchase  it. 


MOTHS.  297 


There  was  a  sense  of  excitement  and  of 
disappointment  in  the  whole  house  party ;  and 
Princesse  Nelaguine  ran  from  one  to  another, 
with  her  little  bright  Tartar  eyes  all  aglow, 
murmuring  '  Charmee,  charmee,  cliarmee  ! '  to 
impatient  ears. 

'  Such  a  beast  as  he  is  !  '  said  the  men  who 
smoked  his  cigars  and  rode  his  horses. 

'And  she  who  looked  all  ice  and  inno- 
cence ! '  said  the  women,  already  in  arms 
against  her. 

Vere  did  not  come  down  to  taste  the  first- 
fruits  of  her  triumph. 

At  the  great  midday  breakfast,  where  most 
people  assembled,  she  was  absent.  Zouroff 
himself  laid  another  bouquet  of  orchids  by  her 
plate,  but  she  was  not  there  to  receive  the 
delicate  homage. 

'  Mademoiselle  Vera  has  not  risen  ? '  he 
asked  now,  with  an  angry  contraction  of  his 
low  brows,  as  no  one  came  where  the  orchids 
were  lying. 

'Vera  had  a  headache,'  said  Lady  Dolly 
serenely  aloud.     '  Or  said  so,'  she  murmured 


298  MOTHS. 


to  his  ear  alone.  '  Don't  be  annoyed.  She 
was  shy.  She  is  a  little  farouche,  you  know, 
my  poor  darling.' 

ZourofF  nodded,  and  took  his  caviare. 

'  What  did  I  predict,  love ! '  murmured 
Lady  Stoat,  of  Stichley,  taking  her  friend  aside 
after  breakfast.  'But  how  quickly  you  suc- 
ceeded! Last  evening  only  you  were  in 
despair  !  Was  the  resistance  only  a  feint  ? 
Or  what  persuasions  did  you  bring  to  bear  ? ' 

'I  threatened  to  send  her  to  Bulmer 
Chase ! '  said  Lady  Dolly  with  a  little  gay 
laugh.     Lady  Stoat  laughed  also. 

'  1  wonder  what  you  did  do,'  she  reflected, 
however,  as  she  laughed.  '  Oh,  naughty  little 
pussy — foolish,  foolish  little  pussy! — to  ha.ve 
any  secrets  from  me  ! ' 

The  day  wore  away  and  Yere  Herbert 
remained  unseen  in  Felicite. 

The  guests  grew  surprised,  and  the  host 
angered. 

Princesse  Nelaguine  herself  had  ascended 
to  the  girl's  room,  and  had  been  denied. 

People  began  to  murmur  that  it  was  odd. 


MOTHS.  299 


'  Go  and  fetch  her,'  said  Zouroff  in  a 
fierce  whisper.  'It  is  time  that  I  at  least 
should  see  her — unless  you  have  told  me 
a  lie.' 

'  Unless  she  be  really  ill,  I  suppose  you 
mean,  you  cruel  creature !  '  said  her  mother 
reproachingly ;  but  she  obeyed  him  and  went. 

*  Girls  are  so  fond  of  tragedy  ! '  reflected 
Lady  Stoat,  recalling  episodes  in  the  betrothal 
of  her  own  daughter,  and  passages  that  had 
preceded  it. 

It  was  now  five  o'clock.  The  day  had  been 
chilly,  as  it  is  at  times  along  the  channel 
shores,  even  in  summer.  Several  persons  were 
in  the  blue-room,  so  called  because  of  its 
turquoise  silk  walls  and  its  quantities  of  Delf, 
Nankin,  Savona,  and  other  blue  china  ranged 
there.  It  was  the  room  for  afternoon  tea. 
Several  of  the  ladies  were  there  in  tea-gowns 
of  the  quaintest  and  prettiest,  that  allowed 
them  to  lie  about  in  the  most  gracefully  tired 
attitudes.  The  strong  summer  sun  found  its 
way  only  dimly  there,  and  the  sweet  smells  of 
the  flowers  and  of  the  sea  were  overborne  by 


800  MOTHS.    . 


the  scent  of  the  pastilles  burning  in  the  bodies 
of  blue  china  monsters. 

Zouroff,  who  at  times  was  very  negligent 
of  his  guests,  w^as  pacing  up  and  down  the 
long  dim  chamber  impatiently,  and  every  now 
and  then  he  glanced  at  the  door.  He  did  not 
look  once  at  the  pretty  groups,  like  eighteenth 
century  pictures  tinged  with  the  languor  of 
odalisques,  that  were  sipping  tea  out  of  tiny 
cups  in  an  alcove  lined  with  celadon  and 
crackling.  The  tinkle  of  the  tea-cups  and  the 
ripple  of  the  talk  ceased  as  the  door  at  the 
farther  end  opened,  and  Yere  entered,  led  by 
her  mother. 

She  was  white,  and  cold,  and  still ;  she  did 
not  raise  her  eyelids. 

Zouroff  approached  with  eager  steps,  and 
bowed  before  her  with  the  dignity  that  he  could 
very  well  assume  when  he  chose. 

'  Mademoiselle,'  he  said  softly,  '  is  it  true 
that  you  consent  to  make  the  most  unworthy 
of  men  the  most  happy  ? ' 

He  saw  a  slight  shudder  pass  over  her  as 
if  some  cold  wind  had  smitten  her. 


MOTHS.  301 


She  did  not  lift  her  eyes. 

'  Since     you    wish,     monsieur '    she 

answered  very  low,  and  then  paused. 

'  The  adoration  of  a  life  shall  repay  you,' 
he  murmured  in  the  conventional  phrase,  and 
kissed  her  hand. 

In  his  own  thoughts  he  said  :  *  Your  mother 
has  made  you  do  this,  and  you  hate  me.  Never 
mind.' 

Then  he  drew  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  led 
her  to  the  Princess  j^elaguine. 

'  My  sister,  embrace  your  sister.  I  shall 
have  two  angels  henceforth  instead  of  one,  to 
watch  and  pray  for  my  erring  soul  !  ' 

Princess  Nelaguine  did  not  smile.  She 
kissed  the  cold  cheek  of  the  sfirl  with  a  g^Hsten 
of  tears  in  her  eyes. 

'  What  a  sacrifice  !  what  a  martyrdom  ! ' 
she  thought.  'Ah,  the  poor  child! — but  per- 
haps he  will  ranger — let  us  hope.' 

All  the  while  Vera  might  have  been  made 
of  marble,  she  was  so  calm  and  so  irrespon- 
sive, and  she  never  once  lifted  her  eyes. 

'  Will  you  not  look  at  me  once  ? '  he  en- 


302  MOTHS. 


treated.  She  raised  her  lids  and  gave  him  one 
fleeting  hunted  glance.  Cruel  though  he  was 
and  hardened,  Sergius  Zouroff  felt  that  look  go 
to  his  soul. 

'  Bah !  how  she  loathes  me  !  '  he  said  in 
his  teeth.  But  the  compassion  in  him  died 
out  almost  as  it  was  born,  and  the  base  appe- 
tites in  him  were  only  whetted  and  made 
keener  by  this  knowledge. 

Lady  Stoat  glided  towards  them  and  lifted 
her  lips  to  Yera's  cheek. 

*My  sweet  child!  so  charmed,  so  delighted/ 
she  whispered.  '  Did  I  not  say  how  it  would 
be  when  your  first  shyness  had  time  to  fold  its 
tents,  as  the  poem  says,  and  steal  away  ? ' 

'  You  are  always  a  prophetess  of  good — and 
my  mother's  friend,'  said  Yere.  They  were 
almost  the  first  words  she  had  spoken,  and 
they  chilled  even  the  worldly  breast  of  her 
mother's  friend. 

There  was  an  accent  in  them  which  told  of 
a  childhood  perished  in  a  night;  of  an  innocence 
and  a  faith  stabbed,  and  stricken,  and  buried 
for  ever  more. 


MOTHS.  303 


'  You  are  only  sixteen,  and  you  will  never 
be  young  any  more ! '  thought  Princess  Nela- 
guine,  hearing  the  cold  and  bitter  accent  of 
those  pregnant  words. 

But  the  ladies  that  made  the  eighteenth 
century  picture  had  broken  up  and  issued  from 
the  alcove,  and  were  offering  congratulations 
and  compliments  in  honeyed  phrases ;  and  no 
one  heeded  or  had  time  for  serious  thought. 

Only  Lady  Dolly,  in  a  passionate  murmur, 
cried,  unheeded  by  any,  to  her  daughter's  ear : 

Tor  heaven's  sake  smile,  blush,  seem 
happy  !  What  will  they  say  of  you  to  look  at 
you  like  this  ? — they  will  say  that  I  coerce  you  ! ' 

'  I  do  my  best,'  answered  Vere  coldly. 

'  My  lovely  mother-in-law,'  muttered  Prince 
Zouroff,  bending  to  Lady  Dolly,  as  he  brought 
her  a  cup  of  tea,  ^  certainly  you  did  not  lie 
to  me  this  morning  when  you  told  me  that 
your  Vera  would  marry  me ;  but  did  you  not 
lie — ^just  a  little  lie,  a  little  white  one — when 
you  said  she  would  love  me  ? ' 

'Love  comes  in  time,'  murmured  Lady 
Dolly  hurriedly. 


304  MOTHS. 


Serge  Zouroff  laughed  grimly. 

'  Does  it  ?  I  fear  that  experience  tells  one 
rather  that  with  time — it  goes.' 

'Yours  may  ;  hers  will  come — the  woman's 
always  comes  last.' 

'  Ma  chere !  your  new  theories  are  astound- 
ing. Nevertheless,  as  your  son-in-law,  I  will 
give  in  my  adhesion  to  them.  Henceforth  all 
the  sex  of  your  Vera — and  yourself — is  purity 
and  perfection  in  my  sight ! ' 

Lady  Dolly  smiled  sweetly  in  his  face. 

'  It  is  never  too  late  to  be  converted  to  the 
truth,'  she  said  playfully,  whilst  she  thought, 
'  Oh  you  beast !     If  I  could  strangle  you ! ' 

Meanwhile  Princess  Nelaguine  was  saying 
with  kindness  in  her  tone  and  gaze  : 

'  My  sweet  child  you  look  chilly  and  pale. 
Were  you  wise  to  leave  your  room  out  of  good- 
ness to  us  ? ' 

'  I  am  cold,'  murmured  Vere  faintly.  '  I 
should  be  glad  if  I  might  go  away — for  a  little.' 

'Impossible,'  said  the  Princess;  and  added. 
'  Dear,  reflect ;  it  will  look  so  strange  to 
people.     My  brother ' 


MOTHS.  306 


'  I  will  stay  then,'  said  Vere  wearily,  and 
she  sat  down  and  received  the  homage  of  one 
and  the  felicitations  of  another,  still  with  her 
eyes  always  cast  downward,  still  with  her 
young  face  passionless,  and  chill  as  a  mask  of 
marble. 

*An  hour's  martyrdom  more  or  less — did 
it  matter  ? '  she  said  to  herself.  All  her  life 
would  be  a  martyrdom,  a  long  mute  martyr- 
dom, now. 

A  few  hours  later  her  maid  dressed  her 
for  the  ball.  She  had  no  need  of  her  mother's 
pearls,  for  those  which  had  been  ordered  from 
Paris  jewellers  were  there ;  the  largest  and 
purest  pearls  that  ever  Indian  diver  plunged 
for  into  the  deep  sea.  When  they  were 
clasped  about  her  they  seemed  to  her  in  no 
way  different,  save  in  their  beauty,  to  the 
chains  locked  on  slave-girls  bought  for  the 
harem.  But  that  was  because  she  had  beer 
taught  such  strange  ideas. 

She  was  quite  passive. 

She  resisted  nothing ;  having  given  away 
in  the  one  great  thing,  why  should  she  dis- 

VOL.  I.  X 


306  MOTHS. 


pute  or  rebel  for  trifles  ?  A  sense  of  unreality 
had  come  upon  her,  as  it  comes  on  people  in 
the  first  approach  of  fever. 

She  walked,  sat,  spoke,  heard,  all  as  in  a 
dream.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  already 
dead :  only  the  pain  was  alive  in  her,  the 
horrible  sickening  pain  that  would  never  be 
stiUed,  but  only  grow  sharper  and  deeper 
with  each  succeeding  hour. 

She  sat  through  the  banquet,  and  felt  all 
eyes  upon  her,  and  was  indifferent.  Let  them 
stare  as  they  would,  as  they  would  stare  at 
the  sold  slave-girl. 

She  has  too  much  self-possession  for  such  a 
child,  said  the  women  there,  and  they  thought 
that  Sergius  Zouroff  would  not  find  in  her  the 
young  saint  that  he  fancied  he  had  won. 

Her  beauty  was  only  greater  for  her  ex- 
treme pallor  and  the  darkness  beneath  her 
eyes.  But  it  was  no  longer  the  beauty  of  an 
innocent  unconscious  child;  it  was  that  of  a 
woman. 

Now  and  then  she  glanced  at  her  mother, 
at  that  pretty  coquettish   little  figure,  semi- 


MOTHS.  307 


nude,  as  fashion  allowed,  and  with  diamonds 
sparkling  everywhere  on  her  snow-white  skin ; 
with  a  perpetual  laugh  on  cherubic  lips,  and 
gaiety  and  grace  in  each  movement.  And 
whenever  she  glanced  there,  a  sombre  scornfal 
fire  came  into  her  own  gaze,  an  unutterable 
contempt  and  disgust  watched  wearily  from 
the  fair  windows  of  her  soul. 

She  was  thinkiog  to  herself  as  she  looked  : 
Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother.  That 
was  the  old  law !  Were  there  such  women 
then  as  she  was  now?  Or  was  that  law  too 
a  dead  letter,  as  the  Marriage  Sacrament  was  ? 

'  She  is  exquisitely  lovely,'  said  the  great 
personage  in  whose  honour  the  banquet  and  the 
ball  were  being  given.  '  In  a  year  or  two  there 
will  be  nothing  so  beautiful  as  she  will  be  in 
all  Europe.  But — is  she  well — is  she  happy  ? 
Forgive  the  question.' 

'  Oh,  sir,  she  is  but  made  nervous  by  the 
honour  of  your  praise,'  said  her  mother,  who 
was  the  person  addressed.  '  Your  Royal  High- 
ness is  too  kind  to  think  of  her  health,  it  is  per- 
fect ;  indeed  I  may  say,  without  exaggeration. 


308  MOTHS. 


that  neither  morally  nor  physically  has  my 
sweet  child  given  me  one  hour's  anxiety  since 
her  birth.' 

The  Prince  bowed,  and  said  some  pleasant 
gracious  words ;  but  his  conviction  remained 
unchanged  by  Lady  Dolly's  assurance  of  her 
daughter's  peace  and  joy. 

Yere  was  led  out  by  Prince  Zouroff  to  join 
the  Quadrille  d'Honneur. 

'  This  is  the  Iron  Cross  ! '  she  thought,  and 
a  faint  bitter  smile  parted  her  lips. 

She  never  once  lifted  her  eyes  to  meet  his. 

'  Cannot  you  tell  me  you  are  happy,  mon 
enfant,'  he  murmured  once.  She  did  not  look 
at  him,  and  her  lips  scarcely  moved  as  she 
answered  him. 

'  I  obey  my  mother,  monsieur.  Do  not  ask 
more.' 

Zouroff  was  silent.  The  dusky  red  of  his 
face  grew  paler ;  he  felt  a  momentary  instinct 
to  tear  his  pearls  off  her,  and  bid  her  be  free ; 
then  the  personal  loveliness  of  her  awoke  too 
fiercely  that  mere  appetite  which  is  all  that 
most  men  and   many   women   know   of  love; 


MOTHS.  309 


and  his  hands  clenched  close  on  hers  in  the 
slow  figure  of  the  dance. 

A  stronger  admiration  than  he  had  ever  felt 
for  her  rose  in  him,  too.  He  knew  the  bitterness 
and  the  revolt  that  were  in  her,  yet  he  saw  her 
serene,  cold,  mistress  of  herself.  It  was  not 
the  childlike  simplicity  that  he  had  once  fancied 
that  he  loved  her  for,  but  it  was  a  courage 
he  respected,  a  quality  he  understood.  'One 
might  send  her  to  Siberia  and  she  would 
change  to  ice ;  she  would  not  bend,'  he 
thought ;  and  the  thought  whetted  his  passion 
to  new  fierceness  and  tenacity. 

The  ball  was  gorgeous  ;  the  surprises  were 
brilliant  and  novel;  the  gardens  were  illumined 
to  the  edge  of  the  sea  till  the  fishers  out  in  the 
starry  night  thought  the  shore  was  all  on  fire. 
The  great  persons  in  whose  honour  it  was, 
were  gratified  and  amused — the  grace  and 
grandeur  of  the  scene  were  like  old  days  of 
Versailles  or  of  Venice. 

The  child  moved  amidst  it,  with  the  great 
pearls  lying  on  her  throat  and  encircling  her 
arms,   and   her  eyes  had  a  blind  unconscious 


310  MOTHS. 


look  in  them  like  those  of  eyes  that  have 
recently  lost  their  sight,  and  are  not  yet  used 
to  the  eternal  darkness. 

Bat  she  spoke  simply  and  well,  if  seldom ; 
she  moved  with  correct  grace  in  the  square 
dance ;  she  made  her  perfect  courtesy  with 
the  eighteenth  century  stateliness  in  it;  all 
men  looked,  and  wondered,  and  praised  her,  and 
women  said  with  a  sigh  of  envy,  'Only  sixteen! ' 

Only  sixteen ;  and  she  might  have  said  as 
the  young  emperor  ^  said,  when  he  took  his 
crown,  '  0  my  youth,  0  my  youth  !  farewell ! ' 

Once  her  mother  had  the  imprudence  to 
speak  to  her ;  she  whispered  in  her  ear  : 

'  Are  you  not  rewarded  love  ?  Are  you  not 
content  ? ' 

Yere  looked  at  her. 

'  I  have  paid  your  debt.     Be  satisfied.' 

A  great  terror  passed  like  a  cold  wind,  over 
the  little  selfish,  cruel,  foolish  woman,  and  she 
trembled. 

The  next  morning  a  message  came  to  her 
from  her  old  Northumbrian  home. 
*  Franz  Josef. 


MOTHS.  311 


'  My  house  must  always  be  open  for  my  dead 
son's  child,  and  my  protection,  such  as  it  is, 
will  always  be  hers.' 

It  was  signed  Sarah  Mull  and  Cantire. 

Vere  read  it,  sitting  before  her  glass  in  the 
light  of  the  full  day,  whilst  her  woman  undid 
the  long  ropes  of  pearls  that  were  twisted 
about  her  fair  hair.  Two  slow  tears  ran  down 
her  cheeks  and  fell  on  the  rough  paper  of  the 
telegram. 

'  She  loves  me  !  '  she  thought,  '  and  what  a 
foolish,  fickle,  sinning  creature  I  shall  for  ever 
seem  to  her  !  ' 

Then,  lest  with  a  moment's  longer  thought 
her  firmness  should  fail  her,  she  wrote  back  in 
answer :  '  You  are  so  good,  and  1  am  grateful. 
But  I  see  that  it  is  best  that  I  should  marry  as 
my  mother  wished.     Pray  for  me.' 

The  message  winged  its  way  fleeter  than 
a  bird,  over  the  grey  sea  to  where  the  northern 
ocean  beat  the  black  Northumbrian  rocks ; 
and  an  old  woman's  heart  was  broken  with  the 
last  pang  of  a  sad  old  age. 

A   day   or   two    later   the    house-party   of 


312  MOTHS. 


Felicite  broke  up,  and  the  chateau  by  the 
Norman  sea  was  left  to  its  usual  solitude.  Lady 
Stoat  went  to  stay  with  her  daughter,  the  Lady 
Birkenhead,  who  was  at  Biarritz,  and  would  go 
thence  to  half-a-dozen  great  French  and  English 
houses.  Prince  Zouroff  and  his  sister  went  to 
Tsarsko  Selo,  as  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  see 
his  emperor,  and  Lady  Dolly  took  her  daughter 
straight  to  Paris. 

Paris  in  the  commencement  of  autumn  was 
a  deserb,  but  she  had  a  pretty  apartment  in  the 
Avenue  Josephine.  The  marriage  was  fixed  to 
take  place  in  November,  and  two  months  was 
not  too  much  for  all  the  preparations  which  she 
needed  to  make.  Besides,  Lady  Dolly  preferred 
that  her  daughter  should  see  as  few  persons  as 
possible.  What  was  she  afraid  of? — she 
scarcely  knew.  She  was  vaguely  afraid  of 
everything.  She  was  so  used  to  breaking  her 
words  that  a  child's  promise  seemed  to  her  a 
thing  as  slight  as  a  spider's  gossamer  shining 
in  the  dew. 

It  was  safest,  she  fancied,  for  Vere  to  see 
no  one,  and  to  a  member  of  the  great  world 


MOTHS.  313 


there  is  no  solitude  so  complete  as  a  city  out  of 
its  season.  So  she  shut  Vere  in  her  gilded,  and 
silvered,  and  over-decorated,  and  over-filled, 
rooms  in  the  Avenue  Josephine,  and  kept  her 
there  stifled  and  weary,  like  a  woodland  bird 
hung  in  a  cage  in  a  boudoir;  and  never  let  the 
girl  take  a  breath  of  air  save  by  her  side  in  her 
victoria  out  in  the  Bois  in  the  still,  close  even- 
ings. Yere  made  no  opposition  to  anything. 
When  St.  Agnes  gave  her  young  body  and  her 
fair  soul  up  to  torment,  did  she  think  of  the 
shape  of  the  executioner's  sword  ? 

Lady  Dolly  was  at  this  time  much  worried 
too  about  her  own  immediate  affairs.  Jura  was 
gone  to  India  on  a  hunting  and  shooting  tour 
with  two  officers  of  his  old  regiment,  and  he 
had  written  very  briefly  to  say  so  to  her,  not 
mentioning  any  period  for  his  return.  He 
meant  to  break  it  all  off,  thought  Lady  Dolly, 
with  an  irritated  humiliation  rankling  in  her. 
Two  years  before  she  would  have  been  Diclone 
infuriata;  but  time  tempers  everything,  and 
there  were  always  consolations.  The  young 
dandy  who  had  won  the  Grand  Prix  was  devoted 


314  MOTHS. 


and  amusing ;  it  conld  not  be  said  that  Jura 
had  been  either  of  late.  She  had  got  used  to 
him,  and  she  had  not  felt  it  necessary  to  be 
always  en  heaute  for  him,  which  was  convenient. 
Besides,  there  were  heaps  of  things  he  had  got 
into  the  way  of  doing  for  her,  and  he  knew  all 
her  habits  and  tastes ;  losing  him  was  like 
losing  a  careful  and  familiar  servant.  Still 
she  was  not  inconsolable.  He  had  grown 
boorish  aiid  stupid  in  the  last  few  months ; 
and,  though  he  knew  thousands  of  her 
secrets,  he  was  a  gentleman — they  were  safe 
with  him,  as  safe  as  the  letters  she  had 
written  him. 

But  her  vanity  was  wounded. 

'Just  because  of  that  child's  great  grey 
eyes  ! — '  she  thought  angrily. 

Classic  Clytemnestra,  when  murdered  by 
her  son,  makes  a  grander  figure  certainly,  but 
she  is  not  perhaps  more  deeply  wounded  than 
fashionable  Faustina,  when  eclipsed  by  her 
daughter. 

'  You  look  quite  worn,  poor  pussy  !  '  said 
Lady  Stoat  tenderly,  as  she  met  her  one  day  in 


MOTHS.  315 


Paris.  '  When  you  onglit  to  be  so  pleased  and 
so  proud  !  ' 

Lady  Stoat,  who  was  very  ingenious  and 
very  penetrating,  left  no  means  untried  by 
which  to  fathom  the  reasons  of  the  sudden 
change  of  Yere.  Lady  Stoat  read  characters 
too  well  not  to  know  that  neither  caprice  nor 
malleability  were  the  cause  of  it. 

'  She  has  been  coerced ;  but  how  ? '  she 
thought ;  and  brought  her  microscope  of  deli- 
cate investigation  and  shrewd  observation  to 
bear  upon  the  subject.  But  she  could  make 
nothing  of  it. 

'  I  do  what  my  mother  wishes,'  Yere 
answered  her,  and  answered  her  nothing  more. 

'  If  you  keep  your  secrets  as  well  when  you 
are  married,'  thought  Lady  Stoat,  '  you  will  be 
no  little  trouble  to  your  husband,  my  dear.' 

Aloud,  of  course  she  said  only  : 

'  So  right,  darling,  so  very  right.  Your  dear 
little  mother  has  had  a  great  deal  of  worry  in 
her  life  ;  it  is  only  just  that  she  should  find  full 
compensation  in  you.  And  I  am  quite  sure  you 
will  be  happy,  Yere.     You  are  so  clever  and 


316  MOTHS. 


serious ;  you  will  have  a  salon,  I  dare  say,  and  get 
all  the  politicians  about  you.  That  will  suit  you 
better  than  frivolity,  and  give  you  an  aim  in 
society.  Without  an  aim,  love,  society  is  sadly 
like  playing  cards  for  counters.  One  wants  a 
lover  to  meet,  a  daughter  to  chaperone,  a  cause 
to  advance,  a  something  beside  the  mere 
pleasure  of  showing  oneself.  You  will  never 
have  the  lover  I  am  sure,  and  you  cannot  have 
the  daughter  just  yet ;  so,  if  I  were  you,  I 
would  take  the  cause — it  does  not  matter  what 
cause  in  the  least — say  England  against  Eussia 
or  Eussia  against  England ;  but  throw  yourself 
into  it,  and  it  will  amuse  you,  and  it  will  be  a 
safeguard  to  you  from  the  dangers  that  beset 
every  beautiful  young  wife  in  the  world.  It  is 
a  melancholy  thing  to  confess,  and  a  humilia- 
ting one,  but  all  human  beings  are  so  made 
that  they  never  can  go  on  playing  only  for 
counters ! ' 

And  Lady  Stoat,  smiling  her  sweetest,  went 
away  from  Yere  with  more  respect  than  she 
had  ever  felt  before  for  feather-headed  little 
pussy,   since    pussy  had    been   able    to   do   a 


MOTHS.  317 


clever   thing  unaided,  and  had   a   secret   that 
her  friend  did  not  know. 

'  Foolish  pussy  ! '  thought  her  friend  Adine. 
'  Oh,  foolish  pussy,  to  have  a  secret  from  me. 
And  it  takes  such  a  wise  head  and  such  a  long 
ead  to  have  a  secret !  It  is  as  dangerous  as  a 
packet  of  dynamite  to  most  persons.' 
Aloud  to  Lady  Dolly  she  said  only : 
'  So  glad,  dear  love,  oh,  so  glad !  I  was  quite 
sure  with  a  httle  reflection  the  dear  child  would 
see  the  wisdom  of  the  step  we  wished  her  to  take. 
It  is  such  an  anxiety  off  your  mind  ;  a  girl  with 
you  in  the  season  would  have  harassed  you 
terribly.  Really  I  do  not  know  which  is  the 
more  wearing :  an  heiress  that  one  is  afraid 
every  moment  will  be  got  at  by  some  spend- 
thrift, or  a  dear  little  penniless  creature  that 
one  is  afraid  will  never  marry  at  all ;  and,  with 
Vere's  peculiar  manners  and  notions,  it  might 
have  been  very  difficult.  Happily,  Zouroff  has 
only  admired  her  lovely  classic  head,  and  has 
never  troubled  himself  about  what  is  inside 
it.  I  think  she  will  be  an  astonishment  to 
him — rather.       But,    to    be    sure,    after    six 


318  MOTHS. 


months  in  the  world,  she  will  change  as  they 
all  do.' 

'  Vere  will  never  change/  said  Lady  Dolly 
irritably,  and  with  a  confused  guilty  little 
glance  at  her  friend.  '  Yere  will  be  always 
half  an  angel  and  half  an  imbecile  as  long  as 
ever  she  lives.' 

'Imbeciles  are  popular  people,'  said  Lady 
Stoat  with  a  smile.  '  As  for  angels,  no  one 
cares  for  them  much  about  modern  houses, 
except  in  terra  cotta.' 

'  It  is  not  you  who  should  say  so,'  returned 
Lady  Dolly  tenderly. 

'  Oh,  my  dear ! '  aiiswered  her  friend  with  a 
modest  sigh  of  depreciation.  'I  have  no  pre- 
tensions— I  am  only  a.  poor,  weak,  and  very 
imperfect  creature.  But  one  thing  I  may  really 
say  of  myself,  and  that  is,  that  I  honestly 
love  young  girls  and  do  my  best  for  them ; 
and  I  think  not  a  few  have  owed  their  life's 
happiness  to  me.  JVI.ay  your  Yere  be  of  the 
number ! ' 

'  I  don't  think  she  will  ever  be  happy,'  said 
Lady  Dolly  impatiently,  with  a  little  confused 


MOTHS.  319 


look  of  guilt.  '  She  doesn't  care  a  bit  about 
dress.' 

'That  is  a  terrible  laciine  certainly/  as- 
sented Lady  Stoat  with  a  smile.  '  Perhaps, 
instead,  she  will  take  to  politics — those  serious 
girls  often  do — or  perhaps  she  will  care  about 
her  children.' 

Lady  Dolly  gave  a  little  shudder.  What 
was  her  daughter  but  a  child  ?  It  seemed  only 
the  other  day  that  the  little  fair  baby  had 
tumbled  about  among  the  daisies  on  the  vicar- 
age lawn,  and  poor  dead  Vere  in  his  mellow 
gentle  voice  had  recited,  as  he  looked  at  her, 
the  glorious  lines  to  his  child  of  Coleridge. 
How  wretched  she  had  been  then ! — how  im- 
patient of  the  straitened  means,  the  narrow 
purse,  the  country  home,  the  calm  religious  life ! 
How  wretched  she  would  have  been  now  could 
she  have  gone  back  to  it !  Yet,  with  the 
contradiction  of  her  sex  and  character.  Lady 
Dolly  for  a  moment  wished  with  all  her  soul 
that  she  had  never  left  that  narrow  home,  and 
that  the  child  were  now  among  the  daisies. 

One   day,  when   they   were   driving   down 


320  MOTHS. 


the  Avenue  Marigny,  her  mother  pointed  out  to 
Yere  a  row  of  lofty  windows  au  premier,  with 
their  shutters  shut,  but  with  gorgeous  autumn 
flowers  hanging  over  their  gilded  balconies ; 
the  liveried  Suisse  was  yawning  in  the  door- 
way. 

'  That  is  where  your  Faust-Romeo  lives,' 
said  Lady  Dolly,  who  could  never  bring  her- 
self to  remember  the  proverb,  let  sleeping  dogs 
lie.  '  It  is  full  of  all  kinds  of  beautiful  things, 
and  queer  ancient  things  too ;  he  is  a  connois- 
seur in  his  way,  and  everybody  gives  him  such 
wonderful  presents.  He  is  making  terrible 
scandal  just  now  with  the  young  Grand- 
Duchess.  Only  to  think  of  what  you  risked 
that  day  boating  with  him  makes  one  shudder! 
You  might  have  been  compromised  for  life  !  ' 

Yere's  proud  mouth  grew  very  scornful,  but 
she  made  no  reply. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  and  saw  the 
scorn. 

'  Oh,  you  don't  believe  me  ?  '  she  said  irrit- 
ably ;  '  ask  anybody!  an  hour  or  two  alone  with 
a  man  like  that  ruins  a  girl's  name  for  ever. 


MOTHS,  321 


Of  course  it  was  morning,  and  open  air,  but 
still  Correze  is  one  of  tliose  persons  a  woman 
canH  be  seen  with,  even  !  ' 

Vere  turned  lier  head  and  looked  back  at 
the  bright  balconies  with  their  hanging  flowers; 
then  she  said  with  her  teeth  shut  and  her  lips 
turning  white : 

'  I  do  not  speak  to  you  of  Prince  Zouroff's 
character.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  not  to 
speak  to  me  of  that  of  M.  de  Correze.' 

Her  mother  was  startled  and  subdued. 
She  wished  she  had  not  woke  the  sleeping- 
dog. 

'  If  she  be  like  that  at  sixteen  what  will 
she  be  at  six-and-twenty  ?  '  she  thought.  '  She 
puts  them  in  opposition  already  ! ' 

Nevertheless,  she  never  again  felt  safe,  and 
whenever  she  drove  along  the  Avenue  Marigny 
she  looked  up  at  the  house  with  the  gilded 
balconies  and  hanging  flowers  to  make  sure 
that  it  gave  no  sign  of  life. 

It  did  not  occur  to  her  that  whatever  Vere 
might  be  at  six-and-twenty  would  be  the  re- 
sult of  her  own  teaching,  actions,  and  example. 
VOL.  I.  Y 


MOTHS, 


Lady  Dolly  had  reasoned  with  herself  that  she 
had  done  right  after  all;  she  had  secured  a 
magnificent  position  for  her  daughter,  was  it 
not  the  first  duty  of  a  mother  ? 

If  Vere  could  not  be  content  with  that 
position,  and  all  its  compensations,  if  she 
offended  heaven  and  the  world  by  any  obsti- 
nate passions  or  imprudent  guilt,  if  she,  in  a 
word,  with  virtue  made  so  easy  and  so  gilded, 
should  not  after  all  be  virtuous,  it  would  be 
the  fault  of  B  aimer,  the  fault  of  society,  the 
fault  of  Zouroff,  the  fault  of  Correze,  or  of  some 
other  man,  perhaps, — never  the  fault  of  her 
mother. 

When  gardeners  plant  and  graft,  they  know 
very  well  what  will  be  the  issue  of  their  work  ; 
they  do  not  expect  the  rose  from  a  bulb  of 
garlic,  or  look  for  the  fragrant  olive  from  a 
slip  of  briar;  but  the  culturers  of  human 
nature  are  less  wise,  and  they  sow  poison,  yet 
rave  in  reproaches  when  it  breeds  and  brings 
forth  its  like.  '  The  rosebud  garden  of  girls '  is 
a  favourite  theme  for  poets,  and  the  maiden,  in 
her  likeness  to  a  half-opened  blossom,  is  as 


MOTHia.  323 


near  purity  and  sweetness  as  a  human  creature 
can  be,  yet  what  does  the  world  do  with  its 
opening  buds  P — it  thrusts  them  in  the  forcing 
house  amidst  the  ordure,  and  then,  if  they 
perish  prematurely,  never  blames  itself.  The 
streets  absorb  the  girls  of  the  poor ;  society 
absorbs  the  daughters  of  the  rich;  and  not 
seldom  one  form  of  prostitution,  like  the  other, 
keeps  its  captives 'bound  in  the  dungeon  of 
their  own  corruption,'         *•* 


y  2 


CHiePTEE  X. 

It  was  snowing  in  Yienna.  Snow  lay  heavy 
on  all  the  plains  and  roads  around,  and  the 
Danube  was  freezing  fast. 

^  It  will  be  barely  colder  in  Moscow,'  said 
Correze,  with  a  shiver,  as  he  threw  his  furs 
about  him  and  left  the  opera-house  amidst  the 
frantic  cheers  and  adoring  outcries  of  the  crowd 
without,  after  his  last  appearance  in  Romeo  e 
GiuUetta.  In  the  bitter  glittering  frosty  night 
a  rain  of  hothouse  flowers  fell  about  him ;  he 
hated  to  see  them  fall;  but  his  worshippers 
did  not  know  that,  and  would  not  have  heeded 
it  if  they  had.  Roses  and  violets,  hyacinth 
and  white  lilac,  dropped  at  his  feet,  lined  his 


MOTHS.  325 


path  and  carpeted  his  carriage  as  if  it  were 
April  in  the  south,  instead  of  November  in 
Austria. 

His  hand  had  just  been  pressed  by  an  em- 
peror's, a  ring  of  brilliants  beyond  price  had 
just  been  slid  on  his  finger  by  an  empress ;  the 
haughtiest  aristocracy  of  the  world  had  caressed 
him  and  flattered  him  and  courted  him ;  he  was 
at  the  supreme  height  of  fame,  and  influence, 
and  fashion,  and  genius ;  yet,  as  he  felt  the 
roses  and  the  lilies  fall  about  him  he  said  rest- 
lessly to  himself : 

'  When  I  am  old  and  nobody  heeds  me,  I 
shall  look  back  to  this  night,  and  such  nights 
as  this,  as  to  a  lost  heaven  ;  why,  in  heaven's 
name,  cannot  I  enjoy  it  now  ?  ' 

But  enjoyment  is  not  to  be  gained  by 
reflecting  that  to  enjoy  is  our  duty,  and  neither 
the  diamonds  nor  the  roses  did  he  care  for,  nor 
did  he  care  for  the  cheers  of  the  multitude  that 
stood  out  under  the  chill  brilliant  skies  for  the 
chance  of  seeing  him  pass  down  the  streets.  It 
is  a  rare  and  splendid  royalty,  too,  that  of  a 
great  singer ;  but  he  did  not  care  for  its  crowns. 


326  MOTHS. 


The  roses  made  him  think  of  a  little  hedge-rose 
gathered  by  a  sweet-briar  bush  on  a  cliff  by  a 
grey  quiet  sea. 

With  such  odd  caprices  does  Fate  often 
smite  genius. 

He  drove  to  the  supper-table  of  a  very  great 
lady,  beautiful  as  the  morning;  and  he  was  the 
idol  of  the  festivity  which  was  in  his  honour ; 
and  the  sweet  eyes  of  its  mistress  told  him  that 
no  audacity  on  his  part  would  be  deemed  pre- 
sumption— yet  it  all  left  him  careless  and 
almost  cold.  She  had  learned  Juliet's  part  by 
heart,  but  he  had  forgotten  Romeo's — had  left 
it  behind  him  in  the  opera-housa  with  his  old 
Venetian  velvets  and  lace. 

From  that  great  lady's,  whom  he  left  alone 
with  a  chill  heart,  empty  and  aching,  he 
went  with  his  comrades  to  the  ball  of  the 
Elysium  down  in  the  subterranean  vaults  of 
the  city,  where  again  and  again  in  many 
winters  he  had  found  contagion  in  the  elastic 
mirth  and  the  buoyant  spirit  of  the  clean- 
limbed, bright-eyed  children  of  the  populace, 
dancing   and  whirling   and  leaping  far  down 


MOTHS.  327 


under  the  streets  to  the  Styrian  music.  But  it 
did  not  amuse  him  this  night;  nor  did  the 
dancers  tempt  him ;  the  whirl  and  the  glow 
and  the  noise  and  the  mirth  seemed  to  him 
tedious  and  stupid. 

'  Decidedly  that  opera  tires  me,'  he  said  to 
himself,  and  thought  that  his  weariness  came 
from  slaying  Tybalt  and  himself  on  the  boards 
of  the  great  theatre.  He  told  his  friends  and 
adorers  with  petulance  to  let  him  be  still,  he 
wanted  to  sleep,  and  the  dawn  was  very  cold. 
He  went  home  to  his  gorgeous  rooms  in  a 
gorgeous  hotel,  and  lit  his  cigar  and  felt  tired. 
The  chambers  were  strewn  with  bouquets, 
wreaths,  presents,  notes ;  and  amidst  the  litter 
was  a  great  gold  vase,  a  fresh  gift  from  the 
emperor,  with  its  two  rilievi,  telling  the  two 
stories  of  Orpheus  and  of  Amphion. 

But  Correze  did  not  look  twice  at  it.  He 
looked  instead  at  a  French  journal,  which  he 
had  thrown  on  his  chair  when  his  servant  had 
roused  him  at  seven  that  evening,  saying  that 
it  was  the  hour  to  drive  to  the  theatre.  He 
had  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand  then  and 


328  MOTHS. 


thrown  it  down  ;  he  took  it  np  now,  and  looked 
again  in  a  corner  of  it  in  which  there  was  an- 
nounced the  approaching  marriage  of  Prince 
Zouroff. 

'  To  give  her  to  that  brute  !  '  he  murmured 
as  he  read  it  over  once  more.  '  Mothers  were 
better  and  kinder  in  the  days  of  Moloch ! ' 

Then  he  crushed  the  journal  up  again,  and 
flung  it  into  the  wood-fire  burniug  in  the  gilded 
tower  of  the  stove. 

It  was  not  slaying  Tybalt  that  had  tired  him 
that  night. 

'  What  is  the  child  to  me  ? '  he  said  to  him- 
self as  he  threw  himself  on  his  bed.  ^  She 
never  could  have  been  anything,  and  yet ' 

Yet  the  scent  of  the  hothouse  bouquets  and 
the  forced  floAvers  seemed  sickly  to  him ;  he 
remembered  the  smell  of  the  little  rose  plucked 
from  the  sweetbriar  hedge  on  the  cliff  above 
the  sea. 

The  following  noon  he  left  Vienna  for 
Moscow,  where  he  had  an  engagement  for 
twenty  nights  previous  to  his  engagement  at 


MOTHS.  329 


St.  Petersburg:  for  the  first  weeks  of  the  Kussian 
New  Year. 

From  Moscow  he  wrote  to  Lady  Dolly. 
When  that  letter  reached  Lady  Dolly  it 
made  her  cry;  it  gave  her  a  cn'se  des  nerfs. 
When  she  read  what  he  wrote  she  turned  pale 
and  shuddered  a  little ;  but  she  burnt  what  he 
wrote  ;  that  was  all. 

She  shivered  a  little  whenever  she  thought 
of  the  letter  for  days  and  weeks  afterwards ; 
but  it  changed  her  purpose  in  no  way,  and 
she  never  for  one  moment  thought  of  acting 
upon  it. 

'  I  shall  not  answer  him,'  she  said  to  herself. 
'  He  will  think  I  have  never  had  it,  and  I  shall 
send  him  a  faire  part  like  anybody  else.  He 
will  say  nothing  when  the  marriage  is  over. 
Absurd  as  it  is,  Correze  is  a  gentleman ;  I 
suppose  that  comes  from  his  living  so  much 
amongst  us.' 

Amongst  the  many  gifts  that  were  sent  to 
swell  the  magnificence  of  the  Zouroff  bridal, 
there  was  one  that  came   anonymously,  and  of 


MOTHS. 


which  none  knew  the  donor.  It  gave  rise  to 
many  conjectures  and  much  comment,  for  there 
was  not  even  the  name  of  the  jeweller  that  had 
made  it.  It  was  an  opal  necklace  of  exquisite 
workmanship  and  great  value,  and,  as  its 
medallion,  there  hung  a  single  rose  diamond 
cut  as  a  star ;  beneath  the  star  was  a  moth 
of  sapphire  and  pearls,  and  beneath  the  moth 
was  a  flame  of  rubies.  They  were  so  hung 
that  the  moth  now  touched  the  star,  now  sank 
to  the  flame.  It  needed  no  words  with  it  for 
Vere  to  know  whence  it  came. 

But  she  kept  silence. 

'  A  strange  jewel,'  said  Prince  Zouroff,  and 
his  face  grew  dark:  he  thought  some  mean- 
ing or  some  memory  came  with  it. 

It  was  the  only  gift  amidst  them  all  that 
felt  the  kisses  and  tears  of  Vere. 

'  I  must  sink  to  the  flame !  '  she  thought, 
'  and  he  will  never  know  that  the  fault  is  not 
mine;  he  will  never  know  that  I  have  not 
forgotten  the  star  ! ' 

But  she  only  wept  in  secret. 

All  her  life  henceforth  was   to  be  one  of 


MOTHS,  331 


silence  and  repression.     They  are  the  sepolte 
vive  in  which  society  immures  its  martyrs. 

Some  grow  to  like  their  prison  walls,  and 
to  prefer  them  to  light  and  freedom :  others 
loathe  them  in  anguish  till  death  come. 

The  gift  of  that  strange  medallion  annoyed 
Zouroff,  because  it  perplexed  him.  He  never 
spoke  to  Vere  concerning  it,  for  he  believed 
that  no  woman  ever  told  the  truth ;  but  he 
tried  to  discover  the  donor  by  means  of  his 
many  servants  and  agents.  He  failed,  not 
because  Correze  had  taken  any  especial  means 
to  ensure  secresy,  but  from  simple  accident. 

Correze  had  bought  the  stones  himself  of 
a  Persian  merchant  many  years  before,  had 
drawn  the  design  himself,  and  had  given  it  to 
a  young  worker  in  gems  of  Galicia  whom  he 
had  once  befriended  at  the  fair  of  Novgorod ; 
and  the  work  was  only  complete  in  all  its 
beauty  and  sent  to  him  when  the  Galician 
died  of  that  terrible  form  of  typhus  which  is 
like  a  plague  in  Kussia.  Therefore  Zouroff 's 
inquiries  in  Paris  were  all  futile,  and  he 
gradually  ceased  to  think  about  the  jewel. 


332  MOTHS. 


Another  thing  came  to  her  at  that  time 
that  hurt  her,  as  the  knife  hurt  Iphigenia.  It 
was  when  the  crabbed  clear  handwriting  she 
knew  so  well  brought  her  from  Bulmer  Chase 
a  bitter  letter. 

'  You  are  your  mother's  child,  I  see/  wrote 
the  harsh  old  woman,  who  had  yet  loved  her 
so  tenderly.  '  You  are  foolish,  and  fickle,  and 
vain,  and  won  over  to  the  world,  like  her. 
You  have  nothing  of  my  dead  boy  in  you,  or 
you  would  not  sell  yourself  to  the  first  rich 
man  that  asks.  Do  not  write  to  me ;  do  not 
expect  to  hear  from  me ;  you  are  for  me  as  if 
you  had  never  lived,  and  if,  in  your  miserable 
marriage,  you  ever  come  to  lose  name  and 
fame — as  you  may  do,  for  loveless  marriages 
are  an  aifront  to  heaven,  and  mostly  end  in 
further  sin— remember  that  you  ask  nothing  at 
my  hands.  At  your  cry  I  was  ready  to  open 
my  hand  to  you  and  my  heart,  but  I  will  never 
do  so  now,  let  you  want  it  as  you  may.  I  pity 
you,  and  I  despise  you;  for  when  you  give 
yourself  to  a  man  whom  you  cannot  honour  or 
love,  you   are   no   better  than   the  shameless 


MOTHS.  333 


women  that  a  few  weeks  ago  I  would  no  more 
have  named  to  you  than  I  would  have  struck 
you  a  buffet  on  your  cheek.' 

Vere  read  the  letter  with  the  hot  brazen 
glow  of  the  Paris  sun  streaming  through  the 
rose  silk  of  the  blinds  upon  her,  and  each  woi'd 
stood  out  before  her  as  if  it  were  on  fire,  and 
her  cheek  grew  scarlet  as  if  a  blow  w^ere 
struck  on  it. 

'  She  is  right !  Oh,  how  right  !  '  she 
thought,  in  a  sort  of  agony.  '  And  I  cannot 
tell  her  the  truth  !  I  must  never  tell  her  the 
truth  ! ' 

Sin  and  shame,  and  all  the  horror  of  base 
passions  had  been  things  as  unintelligible  to 
her,  as  unknown,  as  the  vile,  miserable,  frail 
women  that  a  few  roods  off  her  in  this  city 
were  raving  and  yelling  in  the  wards  of  Ste. 
Pelagic.  And  now,  all  in  a  moment,  they 
seemed  to  have  entered  her  life,  to  swarm 
about  her,  to  become  part  and  parcel  of  her — 
and  from  no  fault  of  hers. 

'  O  mother,  spare  me  !  Let  me  take  back 
my   word ! '   she   cried,    unconsciously,    as   she 


334  MOTHS. 


started  to  her  feet  with  a  stab  of  awful  pain 
in  her  heart  that  frightened  her;  it  felt  like 
death. 

But  in  the  rose-bright  room  all  around  her 
was  silence. 

Her  grandmother's  letter  lay  at  her  feet, 
and  a  ray  of  the  sun  shone  on  the  words  that 
compared  her  to  the  hapless  creatures  whose 
very  shame  she  even  yet  did  not  comprehend. 

The  door  unclosed  and  Lady  Dolly  came 
in;  very  voluble,  indifferent  to  suffering  or 
humiliation,  not  believing,  indeed,  that  she 
ever  caused  either. 

Living  with  her  daughter,  and  finding  that 
no  reproach  or  recrimination  escaped  Vere 
against  her.  Lady  Dolly  had  begun  to  grow 
herself  again.  She  was  at  times  very  nervous 
with  Vere,  and  never,  if  she  could  help  it,  met 
her  eyes,  but  she  was  successful,  she  was  con- 
tented, she  was  triumphant,  and  the  sense  of 
shame  that  haunted  her  was  thrust  far  into  the 
background.  All  the  vulgar  triumphs  of  the 
alliance  were  sweet  to  her,  and  she  did  her 
best  to  forget  its  heavy  cost.     Women  of  her 


MOTHS.  335 


calibre  soon  forget ;  the  only  effort  they  have 
ever  to  make  is,  on  the  contrary,  to  remember. 
Lady  Dolly  had  earnestly  tried  to  forget,  and 
had  almost  thoroughly  succeeded. 

She  came  now  into  the  room,  a  pretty  pearl 
grey  figure;  fresh  from  lengthened  and  close 
council  with  famous  tailors. 

'  Vera,  my  sweet  Vera,  your  sables  are 
come ;  such  sables !  Nobody's  except  the 
grand-duchesses'  will  equal  them.  And  he  has 
sent  bags  of  turquoises  with  them,  literally 
sacks,  as  if  they  were  oats  or  green  peas ! 
You  will  have  all  your  toilette  things  set  with 
them,  and  your  inkstands,  and  all  that,  won't 
you?  And  they  are  very  pretty,  you  know, 
set  flat,  very  thick,  in  broad  bands ;  very  broad 
bands  for  the  waist  and  the  throat ;  but  myself, 

I   prefer Who's   been    writing   to   you  ? 

Oh,  the  old  woman  from  Bulmer.  I  suppose 
she  is  very  angry,  and  writes  a  great  deal  of 
nonsense.  She  was  always  horrid.  The  only 
thing  she  gave  me  when  I  married  poor  Vere 
was  a  black  Bible.  I  wonder  what  she  will 
send  to  you  ?    Another  black  Bible,  perhaps.     I 


MOTHS. 


believe  she  gets  Bibles  cheap  because  she  sub- 
scribes to  the  men  that  go  out  to  read  Leviticus 
and  Deuteronomy  to  the  negro  babies  ! ' 

Vere  bent  and  raised  the  letter  in  silence. 
The  burning  colour  had  gone  from  her  cheeks ; 
she  tore  the  letter  up  into  many  small  pieces 
and  let  them  float  out  into  the  golden  dust  of 
the  sunlight  of  Paris.  Her  word  had  been 
given,  and  she  was  its  slave. 

She  looked  at  her  mother,  whom  she  had 
never  called  mother  since  that  last  nisfht  at 
the  chateau  of  Abba3'e  aux  Bois. 

'  Will  you,  if  you  please,  spare  me  all  those 
details  ?  '  she  said,  simply.  '  Arran  ge  every- 
thing as  you  like  best,  it  will  satisfy  ine.  But 
let  me  hear  nothing  about  it.     That  is  all.' 

'  You  strange,  dear  creature !     Any  other 

girl ,'  began  Lady  Doll 3^,  with  a  smile  that 

was  distorted,  and  eyes  that  looked  away. 

■    '  I  am  not  as  other  girls  are.     I  hope  there 
is  no  other  girl  in  all  the  world  like  me.' 

Her  mother  made  no  answer. 

Through  the  stillness  of  the  chambers  there 
came  the  sounds  of  Paris,  the  vague,  confused, 


MOTHS.  337 


loud  murmur  of  traffic  and  music,  and  pleasure 
and  pain ;  the  sounds  of  tlie  world,  the  world 
to  which  Yere  was  sold. 

The  words  of  the  old  recluse  of  Bulmer 
were  very  severe,  but  they  were  very  true,  and 
it  was  because  of  their  truth  that  they  seared 
the  delicate  nerves  of  the  girl  like  a  hot  iron. 
She  did  not  well  know  what  shame  was,  but 
she  felt  that  her  own  marriage  was  shame; 
and  as  she  rolled  home  from  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne  that  night  through  the  bright  streets 
of  Paris,  past  the  Hotel  Zouroff  that  was  to 
be  her  prison-house,  she  looked  at  the  girls 
of  the  populace  who  were  hurrying  home- 
ward from  their  workshops— flower-makers, 
glove-makers,  clear- starchers,  teachers  of  chil- 
dren, workers  in  factories — and  she  envied 
them,  and  followed  them  in  fancy  to  their 
humble  homes,  and  thought  to  herself :  '  How 
happy  I  would  be  to  work,  if  only  I  had  a 
mother  that  loved  me,  a  mother  that  was 
honest  and  good ! ' 

The  very  touch  of  her  mother's  hand,  the 
very   sound   of  her  laugh,   and   sight  of  her 

VOL.  I.  z 


338  MOTHS, 


smile,  hurt  lier ;  slie  had  known  nothing  about 
the  follies  and  vices  of  the  world,  until  suddenlj^, 
in  one  moment,  she  had  seen  them  all  in- 
carnated in  her  mother,  whose  pretty  graces 
and  gaieties  became  terrible  to  her  for  ever,  as 
the  pink  and  white  loveliness  of  a  woman 
becomes  to  the  eyes  that  have  seen  in  its  veiled 
breast  a  cancer. 

Yere  had  seen  the  moral  cancer.  And  she 
could  not  forget  it,  never  could  she  forget  it. 

'When    she    was    once    beloved    by     my 

father ! '   she   thought ;    and   she   let  her 

Bible  lie  unopened,  lest,  turning  its  leaves,  she 
should  see  the  old  divine  imprecations,  the  old 
bitter  laws  that  were  in  it  against  such  women 
as  this  woman,  her  mother,  was. 

One  day  in  November  her  betrothed  husband 
arrived  from  Russia,  The  magnificence  of  his 
gifts  to  her  was  the  theme  of  Paris.  The  girl 
was  passive  and  silent  always. 

When  he  kissed  her  hands  only  she  trembled 
from  head  to  foot. 

'  Are  3^ou  afraid  of  me  ? '  he  murmured. 

'  No ;  I  am  not  afraid.' 


MOTHS.  339 


She  could  not  tell  him  that  she  felt  disgust 
— disgust  so  great,  so  terrible,  that  she  could 
have  sprung  from  the  balcony  and  dashed 
herself  to  death  upon  the  stones. 

'  Cannot  you  say  that  you  like  me  ever  so 
little  noAv  ?  '  he  persisted,  thinking  that  all  his 
generosity  might  have  borne  some  fruit. 
^  No — I  cannot.' 

He  laughed  grimly  and  bitterly. 
'  And  yet  I  dare  take  you,  even  as  you  are, 
you  beautiful  cold  child !  ' 

'  I  cannot  tell  you  a  falsehood.' 
'  Will  you  never  tell  me  one  ?  ' 
'  No ;  never.' 

'  I  do  not  believe  you ;  every  woman  lies.' 
Yere  did  not  answ^er  in  words,  but  her  eyes 
shone  for  a  moment  with  a  scorn  so  noble  that 
Sergius  Zouroff  bent  his  head  before  her. 

'  I  beg  your  pardon,'  he  said ;  '  I  think  you 
will  not  lie.  But  then,  you  are  not  a  maiden 
only ;  you  are  a  young  saint.' 

Vere  stood  aloof  from  him.     The  sunshine 
shone  on  her  fair  head  and  the  long,  straight 
folds    of   her   white    dress ;    her  hands   were 
zs2 


S40  MOTHS. 


clasped  in  front  of  her,  and  the  sadness  in  her 
face  gave  it  greater  gravity  and  beauty. 

'  I  am  a  beast  to  hold  her  to  her  word ! '  he 
thought;  but  the  beast  in  him  was  stronger 
than  aught  else  and  conquered  him,  and  made 
him  ruthless  to  her. 

She  was  looking  away  from  him  into  the 
blue  sky.  She  was  thinking  of  the  words, 
'  keep  yourself  unspotted  from  the  world.'  She 
was  thinking  that  she  would  be  always  true  to 
this  man  whom  slie  loathed ;  always  true ; 
that  was  his  right. 

'  And  perhaps  God  will  let  me  die  soon,' 
she  thought,  with  her  childish  fancy  that  God 
was  near  and  Death  an  angel. 

Serge  ZourofiP  looked  at  her,  hesitated, 
bowed  low,  and  left  the  room. 

'  I  am  not  fit  for  her ;  no  fitter  than  the 
sewer  of  the  street  for  a  pearl ! '  he  thought, 
and  he  felt  ashamed. 

Yet  he  went  to  his  usual  companions  and 
spent  the  night  in  drink  and  play,  and  saw  the 
sun  rise  with  hot  red  eyes ;  he  could  not  change 
because  she  was  a  saint. 


MOTHS.  841 


Only  a  generation  or  two  back  his  fore- 
fathers had  bought  beautiful  Persian  women 
by  heaping  up  the  scales  of  barter  with  strings 
of  pearls  and  sequins,  and  had  borne  ofiP  Cir- 
cassian slaves  in  forays  with  simple  payment 
of  a  lance  left  in  the  lifeless  breasts  of  the  men 
who  had  owned  them  :  his  wooing  was  of  the 
same  rude  sort.  Only  being  a  man  of  the 
world,  and  his  ravishing  being  legalised  by 
society,  he  went  to  the  great  shops  of  Paris  for 
his  gems,  and  employed  great  notaries  to  write 
down  the  terms  of  barter. 

The  shrinking  coldness,  the  undisguised 
aversion  of  his  betrothed  only  whetted  his 
passion  to  quicker  ardour,  as  the  shrieks  of  the 
Circassian  captives,  or  the  quivering  limbs  of 
the  Persian  slaves,  had  done  that  of  his  fore- 
fathers in  Ukraine ;  and  besides,  after  all,  he 
thought,  she  had  chosen  to  give  herself,  hating 
him,  for  sake  of  what  he  was  and  of  all  he 
could  give.  After  all,  her  mother  could  not 
have  driven  her  so  far  unless  ambition  had 
made  her  in  a  manner  malleable. 

Zouroff,   in    w^hose  mind    all   w^omen  were 


S42  MOTHS, 


alike,  had  almost  been  brouglit  to  believe  in 
the  honesty  and  steadfastness  of  the  girl  to 
whom  he  had  given  Loris,  and  he  was  at  times 
disposed  to  be  bitterly  enraged  against  her 
because  she  had  fallen  in  his  sight  by  her 
abrupt  submission;  she  seemed  at  heart  no 
better  than  the  rest.  She  abhorred  him ;  yet 
she  accepted  him.  No  mere  obedience  could  ac- 
count for  that  acceptance  without  some  weakness 
or  some  cupidity  of  nature.  It  hardened  him 
against  her;  it  spoilt  her  lovely,  pure  childhood 
in  his  eyes;  it  made  her  shudder  from  him 
seem  half  hypocrisy.  After  all,  he  said  to 
himself,  where  was  she  so  very  much  higher 
than  Casse-une-  Croute  ?  It  was  only  the  price 
that  was  altered. 

When  she  came  to  know  what  Casse-une- 
Croute  was,  she  said  the  same  thing  to  herself. 

'  Do  you  believe  in  wicked  people,  miladi  P ' 
he  said  the  next  evening  to  Lady  Dolly,  as 
they  sat  together  in  a  box  at  the  BoufPes. 
.  'Wicked  people?  Oh  dear  no— at  least — 
yes,'  said  Lady  Dolly  vaguely.  '  Yes,  I  suppose 
I  do.    I  am  afraid  one  must.    One  sees  dreadful 


MOTHS.  343 


things  in  the  papers ;  in  society  everybody  is 
very  much  like  everybody  else — no  ?  ' 

Zouroff  laughed;  the  little,  short,  hard 
laugh  that  was  characteristic  of  him. 

'  I  think  one  need  not  go  to  the  papers.  I 
think  you  and  I  are  both  doing  evil  enough  to 
satisfy  the  devil — if  a  devil  there  be.  But,  if 
you  do  not  mind  it,  I  need  not.' 

Lady  Dolly  was  startled,  then  smiled. 

'  What  droll  things  you  say  !     And  do  not 

talk  so  of  the .    It  doesn't  sound  well.    It's 

an  old-fashioned  belief,  I  know,  and  not 
probable  they  say  now,  but  still — one  never 
can  tell ' 

And  Lady  Dolly,  quite  satisfied  with  herself, 
laughed  her  last  laugh  at  the  fun  of  the  Belle 
Helme,  and  had  her  cloak  folded  round  her,  and 
went  out  on  the  arm  of  her  future  son-in-law. 

Such  few  great  ladies  as  were  already  in 
Paris,  passing  through  from  the  channel  coast 
to  the  Riviera,  or  from  one  chateau  to  another, 
all  envied  her,  she  knew;  and  if  anybody  had 
ever  said  anything  that  was — that  was  not 
quite   nice — nobody  could   say   anything   now 


344  MOTHS. 


when  in  another  fortnight  her  daughter  would 
be  Princess  Zouroff. 

'  Eeally,  I  never  fancied  at  all  I  was  clever, 
but  I  begin  to  think  that  I  am/  she  said  in 
her  self-complacency  to  herself. 

The  idea  that  she  could  be  wicked  seemed 
quite  preposterous  to  her  when  she  thought  it 
over.  '  Harmless  little  me  ! '  she  said  to  herself. 
True,  she  had  felt  wicked  when  she  had  met 
her  daughter's  eye,  but  that  was  nonsense; 
the  qualm  had  always  gone  away  when  she  had 
taken  her  champagne  at  dinner  or  her  ether 
in  her  bedroom. 

A  fortnight  later  the  marriage  of  the 
head  of  the  house  of  Zouroff  was  solemnised  at 
the  chapel  of  the  English  Embassy  and  the 
Russian, church  in  Paris. 

Nothing  was  forgotten  that  could  add  to 
the  splendour  and  pomp  of  the  long  ceremonies 
and  sacraments  ;  all  that  was  greatest  in  the 
great  world  was  assembled  in  honour  of  the 
event.  The  gifts  were  magnificent,  and  the 
extravagance  unbridled.  The  story  of  the 
corheille  read  like  a  milliners  dream  of  heaven ; 


MOTHS.  345 


the  jewels  given  by  the  bridegroom  were  esti- 
mated at  a  money  value  of  millions  of  roubles, 
and  with  them  were  given  the  title-deeds  of  a 
French  estate  called  Felicite,  a  free  gift  of  love 
above  and  outside  all  the  superb  donations  con- 
tained in  the  settlements.  All  these  things 
and  many  more  were  set  forth  at  length  in  all 
the  journals  of  society,  and  the  marriage  was 
one  of  the  great  events  of  the  closing  year. 
The  only  details  that  the  papers  did  not 
chronicle  were  that  when  the  mother,  with 
her  tender  eyes  moist  with  tears,  kissed  her 
daughter,  the  daughter  put  her  aside  without 
an  answering  caress,  and  that  when  the  last 
words  of  the  sacrament  were  spoken,  she,  who 
had  now  become  the  Princess  ZourofP,  fell  for- 
ward on  the  altar  in  a  dead  swoon,  from  which 
for  some  time  she  could  not  be  awakened. 

'  So  they  have  thrown  an  English  maiden 
to  our  Tartar  minotaur  !  Oh,  what  chaste 
people  they  are,  those  English !  '  said  a  Eussian 
Colonel  of  the  Guard  to  Correze,  as  their 
sledge  flew  over  the  snow  on  the  Newski 
Prospect. 


346  MOTHS. 


Correze  gave  a  sliudder  of  disgust ;  he  said 
nothing. 

Critics  in  music  at  the  opera-house  that 
night  declared  then,  and  long  after,  that  for 
the  first  time  in  all  his  career  he  was  guilty 
of  more  than  one  artistic  error  as  he  sang  in 
the  great  part  of  John  of  Leyden. 

When  the  opera  was  over,  and  he  sat  at  a 
supper,  in  a  room  filled  with  hothouse  flowers 
and  lovely  ladies,  while  the  breath  froze  on  the 
beards  of  the  sentinels  on  guard  in  the  white 
still  night  without,  Correze  heard  little  of  the 
laughter,  saw  little  of  the  beauty  round  him. 
He  was  thinking  all  the  while : 

'  The  heaviest  sorrow  of  my  life  will  always 
be,  not  to  have  saved  that  child  from  her 
mother.^ 


CHAPTEE  XI. 


Between  the  Gulf  of  Villafranca  and  that  of  Eza 
there  was  a  white  shining  sunlit  house,  with 
gardens  that  were  in  the  dreariest  month  of  the 
year  rich  and  red  with  roses,  golden  with  orange 
fruit,  and  made  stately  by  palms  of  long  growth, 
througfh  whose  stems  the  bine  sea  shone.  To 
these  gardens  there  was  a  long  terrace  of  white 
marble  stretching  along  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
with  the  waves  beating  far  down  below ;  to  the 
terrace  there  were  jnarble  seats  and  marble 
steps,  and  copies  of  the  Loves  and  Fauns  of  the 
Vatican  and  of  the  Capitol,  with  the  glow  of 
geraniums  flamelike  about  their  feet. 

Up  and  down  the   length   of  this   §tately 


848  MOTHS. 


place  a  woman  moved  with  a  step  that  was 
slow  and  weary,  and  yet  very  restless  ;  the  step 
of  a  thmg  that  is  chained.  The  woman  was 
very  young,  and  very  pale ;  her  skirts  of  olive 
velvet  swept  the  white  stone  ;  her  fair  hair  was 
coiled  loosely  with  a  golden  arrow  run  through 
it;  round  her  throat  there  were  strings  of 
pearls,  the  jewels  of  morning.  All  women 
envied  her  the  riches  of  which  those  pearls 
were  emblem.    She  was  Yera,  Princess  Zouroff. 

Vera  always,  now. 

She  moved  up  and  down,  up  and  down, 
fatiguing  herself,  and  unconscious  of  fatigue ; 
the  sunny  world  was  quiet  about  her;  the 
greyhound  paced  beside  her,  keeping  step  with 
hers.  She  was  alone,  and  there  was  no  one  to 
look  upon  her  face  and  see  its  pain,  its  weari- 
ness, its  disgust. 

Only  a  week  ago,  she  thought ;  only  a  week 
since  she  had  fallen  in  a  swoon  at  the  altar  of 
the  Russian  church ;  only  a  week  since  she  had 
been  the  girl  Vere  Herbert.  Only  a  week  ! — 
and  it  seemed  to  her  that  thousands  of  years 
had  come  and  gone,  parting  her  by  ages  from 


MOTHS.  o49 


that  old  sweet  season  of  ignorance,  of  innocence, 
of  peace,  of  youth. 

She  was  only  sixteen  still,  but  she  was  no 
niore  young.  Her  girlhood  had  been  killed  in 
her  as  a  spring  blossom  is  crushed  by  a  rough 
hot  hand  that,  meaning  to  caress  it,  kills  it. 

A  great  disgust  filled  her,  and  seemed  to 
suffocate  her  with  its  loathing  and  its  shame. 
Everything  else  in  her  seemed  dead,  except 
that  one  bitter  sense  of  intolerable  revulsion. 
All  the  revolted  pride  in  her  was  like  a  living 
thing  buried  under  a  weight  of  sand,  and  speech- 
less, but  aghast  and  burning. 

'  How  could  she  ?  how  could  she  ? '  she 
thought  every  hour  of  the  day ;  and  the  crime 
of  her  mother  against  her  seemed  the  vilest  the 
earth  could  hold. 

She  herself  had  not  known  what  she  had 
done  when  she  had  consented  to  give  herself  in 
marriage,  but  her  mother  had  known. 

She  did  not  reason  now.     She  only  felt. 

An  unutterable  depression  and  repugnance 
weighed  on  her  always ;  she  felt  ashamed  of  the 
sun  when  it  rose,  of  her  own  eyes  when  they 


350  Moms. 


looked  at  her  from  the  mirror.  To  herself  she 
seemed  fallen  so  low,  sunk  to  such  deep  degra- 
dation, that  the  basest  of  creatures  would  have 
had  full  right  to  strike  her  cheek,  and  spit  in 
her  face,  and  call  her  sister. 

Poets  in  all  time  have  poured  out  their  pity 
on  the  woman  who  wakes  to  a  loveless  dis- 
honour :  what  can  the  few  words  of  a  priest,  or 
the  envy  of  a  world,  do  to  lighten  that  shame 
to  sacrificed  innocence  ? — nothing. 

Her  life  had  changed  as  suddenly  as  a  flower 
changes  when  the  hot  sirocco  blows  over  it,  and 
fills  it  with  sand  instead  of  dew.  Nothing  could 
help  her.  Nothing  could  undo  what  had  been 
done.  Nothing  could  make  her  ever  more  the 
clear-eyed,  fair-souled  child  that  had  not  even 
known  the  meaning  of  any  shame. 

'God  himself  could  not  help  me ! '  she  thought 
with  a  bitterness  of  resignation  that  was  more 
hopeless  than  that  of  the  martyrs  of  old ;  and 
she  paced  up  and  down  the  marble  road  of  the 
terrace,  wondering  how  long  her  life  would 
last  like  this. 

All  the  magnificence  that  surrounded  her 


MOTHS.  351 


was  hateful ;  all  the  gifts  that  were  heaped  on 
her  were  like  insult ;  all  the  congratulations 
that  were  poured  out  on  her  were  like  the 
mockeries  of  apes,  like  the  crackling  of  dead 
leaves.  In  her  own  sight,  and  without  sin  of 
her  own,  she  had  become  vile. 

And  it  was  only  a  week  ago  ! 

Society  would  have  laughed. 

Society  had  set  its  seal  of  approval  upon 
this  union,  and  upon  all  such  unions,  and  so 
deemed  them  sanctified.  Year  after  year,  one 
on  another,  the  pretty,  rosy,  golden-curled 
daughters  of  fair  mothers  were  carefully  tended 
and  cultured  and  reared  up  to  grace  the  proud 
races  from  Avhich  they  sprang,  and  were  brought 
out  into  the  great  world  in  their  first  bloom 
like  half-opened  roses,  with  no  other  end  or 
aim  set  before  them  as  the  one  ambition  of 
their  lives  than  to  make  such  a  marriage  as 
this.     Whosoever  achieved  such  was  blessed. 

Pollution  ?  Prostitution  ?  Society  would 
have  closed  its  ears  to  such  words,  knowing 
nothing  of  such  things,  not  choosing  to  know 
anything. 


352  MOTHS. 


Shame  ?  What  shame  could  there  be  when 
he  was  her  husband?  Strange  fanciful  ex- 
aggeration ! — society  would  have  stared  and 
smiled. 

The  grim  old  woman  who  studied  her  Bible 
on  the  iron-bound  Northumbrian  shores ;  the 
frivolous,  dreamy,  fantastic  singer,  who  had 
played  the  part  of  Eomeo  till  all  life  seemed  to 
him  a  rose-garden,  moonlit  and  made  for  sere- 
nades ;  these  two  might  perhaps  think  with  her, 
and  understand  this  intense  revolt,  this  pas- 
sionate repugnance,  this  ceaseless  sense  of  un- 
endurable, indelible  reproach.  But  those  were 
all.  Society  would  have  given  her  no  sympathy. 
Society  would  have  simpered  and  sneered.  To 
marry  well ;  that  was  the  first  duty  of  a 
woman. 

She  had  fulfilled  it;  she  had  been  fortu- 
nate ;  how  could  she  fail  to  be  content  ? 

A  heavy  step  trod  the  marble  terrace, 
and  a  heavy  shadow  fell  across  the  sunlight ; 
her  husband  approached  her. 

'  You  are  out  without  any  shade  ;  you  will 
spoil  your   skin,'   he    said,   as    his    eyes   fell 


MOTHS,  863 


gloomily  on  her,  for  he  noticed  the  shudder 
that  passed  over  her  as  he  drew  near. 

She  moved  without  speaking,  where  no  sun 
fell,  where  the  armless  Cupid  of  the  Vatican, 
copied  in  marble,  stood  amongst  the  rose  of  a 
hundred  leaves. 

'How  pale  you  are.  That  gown  is  too  heavy 
for  you.     Do  you  like  this  place  ?  ' 

She  said  the  word  with  an  unconscious 
sound  in  it,  that  had  the  wonder  of  despair ; 
despair  which  asked  what  was  there  left  in  all 
the  world  to  like  or  love  ? 

'  Do  you  like  it,  I  say,'  he  repeated.  *  Most 
women  rave  about  it.  You  seem  as  if  it  were 
a  prison-house.    Will  you  be  always  like  that  ?  ' 

*  The  place  is  beautiful,'  she  said  in  a  low 
tone.     '  Have  I  complained  ?  ' 

'  No ;  you  never  complain.  That  is  what 
annoys  me.  If  you  ever  fretted  like  other 
women — but  you  are  as  mute  as  that  marble 
armless  thing.  Sometimes  you  make  me  afraid 
— afraid — that  I  shall  forget  myself,  and  strike 
you.' 

VOL.  I.  A  A 


(354  MOTHS. 


She  was  silent. 

'Would  that  you  did  strike  sooner  than 
embrace  me  ! '  she  thought ;  and  he  read  the 
unuttered  thought  in  her  eyes. 

'  I  do  love  you,'  he  said  sullenly,  with  some 
emotion.  'You  must  know  that;  I  have  left 
no  means  untried  to  show  it  you.' 

'  You  have  been  very  generous,  monsieur  ! ' 

'  Monsieur !  always  monsieur ! — it  is  ridicu- 
lous. I  am  your  husband,  and  you  must  give 
me  some  tenderer  word  than  that.  After  all, 
why  cannot  you  be  happy  ?  You  have  all  you 
want  or  wish  for,  and  if  you  have  a  wish  still 
unfulfilled,  be  it  the  maddest  or  most  impossible, 
it  shall  be  gratified  if  gold  can  do  it,  for  I  love 
you — you  frozen  child  ! ' 

He  bent  his  lips  to  hers ;  she  shuddered, 
and  was  still. 

He  kept  his  hand  about  her  throat,  and 
gathered  one  of  the  roses  of  a  hundred  leaves, 
and  set  it  against  the  pearls  and  her  white 
skin;  then  he  flung  it  away  into  the  sea 
roughly. 

'  Eoses  do  not  become  you  ;  you  are  not  a 


MOTHS.  355 


telle  jardiniere ;  you  are  a  statue.  This 
place  is  dull,  one  tires  of  it ;  we  will  go  to 
Eussia.' 

*  As  you  please.' 

'  As  I  please !  Will  you  say  nothing  else 
all  your  life  ?  There  is  no  pleasure  in  doing 
what  one  pleases  unless  there  is  some  opposition 
to  the  doing  it.  If  you  would  say  you  hated 
snow  and  ice,  now,  I  would  swear  to  you  that 
snow  and  ice  were  paradise  beside  these  sickly 
palms  and  tawdry  flowers.  Is  there  nothing 
you  like  ?  Who  sent  you  that  strange  necklace 
of  the  moth?' 

*  I  do  not  know.' 

*  But  you  imagine  ? ' 
She  was  silent. 

'  What  is  the  meaning  of  it  ? ' 

'  I  think  the  meaning  is  that  one  may  rise 
to  great  ends,  or  sink  to  base  ones.' 

'  Has  it  no  love-token,  then ;  no  message  ?  ' 

'  No.' 

The  red  colour  rose  over  her  pale  face,  but 
she  looked  at  him  with  unflinching  gaze.  He 
was  but  half  satisfied. 

A  A  2 


856  MOTHS. 


'  And  do  you  mean  to  rise  or  sink  ? '  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  banter.     '  Pray  tell  me.' 

^  I  have  sunk.' 

The  words  stung  him,  and  his  pride,  which 
was  arrogant  and  vain,  smarted  under  them. 

'  By  God  ! '  he  said  with  his  short  hard 
laugh.  '  Did  it  never  occur  to  you,  my  beauti- 
ful Vera,  that  you  would  do  wiser  not  to  insult 
me  if  you  want  to  enjoy  your  life  ?  I  am  your 
master,  and  I  can  be  a  bad  master.' 

She  looked  at  him  without  flinching,  very 
coldly,  very  wearily. 

*  Why  will  you  ask  me  questions  ?  The 
truth  displeases  you,  and  I  will  not  tell  you 
other  than  the  truth.  I  meant  no  insult — 
unless  it  were  to  insult  myself.' 

He  was  silent.  He  walked  to  and  fro 
awhile,  pulling  the  roses  from  their  stems  and 
flinging  them  into  the  gulf  below.  Then  he 
spoke  abruptly,  changing  the  subject. 

'We  will  go  to  Eussia.  You  shall  see  a 
ball  in  the  Salle  des  Palmier s.  The  world  is 
best.  Solitude  is  sweet  for  lovers,  but  not 
when  one  of  them  is  a  statue — or  an  angel. 


MOTHS.  357 


Besides,  that  sort  of  thing  never  lasts  a  week. 
The  world  is  best.  You  would  make  me 
hate  you — or  adore  you — if  we  stayed  on 
alone,  and  I  wish  to  do  neither.  If  you  were 
not  my  wife  it  might  be  worth  while ;  but  as 
it  is ' 

He  threw  another  rose  into  the  sea,  as  if 
in  a  metaphor  of  indifference. 

'Come  to  breakfast,'  he  said  carelessly. 
*  We  will  leave  for  Eussia  to-night.' 

As  they  passed  down  the  terrace  and  entered 
the  house,  she  moved  wearily  beside  him  with 
her  face  averted  and  her  lips  very  pale. 

The  Salle  des  Palmiers  had  no  charm  for 
her.  She  was  thinking  of  the  nightingale  that 
was  then  singing  in  the  Eussian  snows. 

If  she  saw  Correze  what  could  she  say  ? 
The  truth  she  could  not  tell  him,  and  he  must 
be  left  to  think  the  moth  had  dropped  into  the 
earthly  fires  of  venal  ambitions  and  of  base 
desires. 

'  Could  you  not  leave  me  here  ? '  she  said 
wistfully  and  a  little  timidly  as  she  sat  at  the 
breakfast-table. 


358  MOTHS. 


He  answered  with  his  curt  and  caustic 
laugh. 

'  I  thank  you  for  the  compliment !  No, 
my  dear,  one  does  not  go  through  all  the 
weariness  and  folly  of  marriage  ceremonies  to 
leave  the  loveliness  one  has  purchased  so  hardly 
in  a  week  !  Have  patience !  I  shall  be  tired 
of  you  soon,  maybe.  But  not  until  you  have 
shown  your  diamonds  at  an  Imperial  ball.  Do 
not  get  too  pale.  The  court  will  rally  me  upon 
my  tyranny.  You  are  too  pale.  A  touch  of 
your  mother's  rouge  will  be  advisable  unless 
you  get  some  colour  of  ybur  own.' 

Vera  was  silent. 

Her  throat  seemed  to  contract  and  choke 
her.     She  set  her  glass  down  untouched. 

This  was  her  master ! — this  man  who 
would  tire  of  her  soon,  and  bade  her  rouge 
whilst  she  was  yet  sixteen  years  old  ! 

Yet  his  tyranny  was  less  horrible  to  her 
than  his  tenderness. 

That  night  they  left  for  Eussia. 

A  few  days  later  the  gossip  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, in  court  and  cafe,  talked  only  of  two 


MOTHS.  359 


things — the  approaching  arrival  of  the  new 
beauty,  Princess  Zouroff,  with  the  opening  of 
the  long  closed  Zouroff  Palace  on  the  Newski 
Prospect;  and  of  the  immense  penalty  paid 
in  forfeit  by  the  great  tenor,  Correze,  to  escape 
the  last  twenty  nights  of  his  engagement  in 
that  city. 

'  I  had  better  forfeit  half  my  engagement 
than  lose  my  voice  altogether,'  said  Correze 
impatiently,  in  explanation.  'The  thousands 
of  francs  I  can  soon  make  again ;  but  if  the 
mechanical  nightingale  in  my  throat  give  way 
- — I  must  go  and  break  stones  for  my  bread. 
No  !  in  this  atmosphere  I  can  breathe  no  longer. 
I  pay — and  I  go  to  the  south.' 

He  paid  and  went;  and  St.  Petersburg 
was  half  consoled  for  his  departure  by  the 
entry  on  the  following  day  of  Prince  Zouroff, 
and  of  her  whom  all  the  world  called  now, 
and  would  call  henceforward.  Princess  Vera. 

END   OP  THE   FIRST  VOLUME. 


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Cyclopaedia  of  Costume ; 

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Including  Notices  of  Contemporaneous  Fashions  on  the  Continent, 
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Europe.  By  J.  R.  Planche,  Somerset  Herald. 
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of  the  entries  curious  and  instritctive  details  are  given.  .  .  .  3Ir.  Planche' s 
enormous  laboiir  of  love,  tlie  production  of  a  text  which,  whet  Iter  in  its  dictionary 
form  or  in  that  of  the  '  General  History,'  is  within  itsintended  scope  immeas7trably 
tlte  best  and  richest  work  on  Costume  in  English.  ,  .  .  This  book  is  not  07ily 
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CI/ATTO   6-    WINDUS,    PICCADILLY. 


29 


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the  trades7nan  in  his  counting-hotise,  and  the  gentle7na7i  in  his  club." — TiiMES. 


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